


The Bad Omen

by TheAvalonCode



Category: Persona 3, Persona Series
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Canon-Divergent Protagonist, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Death, Eventual Relationships (Maybe?), F/F, F/M, Gen, Healing, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Liar, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Personal Growth, Platonic Relationships, Protagonist has a deathwish at first, Recovery, Slow Burn, Tagging those for TWs, Tags Contain Spoilers, Trauma, probably going to be long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:07:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25697782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAvalonCode/pseuds/TheAvalonCode
Summary: Makoto Yuki has been passed around families and friends like a bad penny. Everywhere he ends up, something seems to go wrong. People say that death follows him around, he says he's just unlucky. At last he has the pleasure of his own room and his own space in the Iwatodai Dorm, and hopefully the ghosts of his past stay far, far away.(Spoiler alert: They won't.)A re-telling of the events of Persona 3, with content from FES and P3P, but the main character has a fascination with death. They want to see it, they want to cause it, they want to feel it. Maybe their allies will be able to help them heal and grow, but that's only if they let them in. This may be a long-haul, with (hopefully) some interesting twists, updated as I get the opportunity because this idea will not leave my head.
Comments: 48
Kudos: 48





	1. Dance with the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Firstly, thanks for taking a look at the fic! Author's notes can be found at the end of each chapter, if you want to read some of my thoughts.  
> Please be warned that there will be references to death throughout (as with the Persona 3 canon), and also conversations around suicide and suicidal ideation. The content within may be harmful to some readers. Please know that you are safe, and loved, and that this work in no way aims to glorify suicidal thoughts, which are a very real issue.
> 
> If you have any questions, or comments, or critique, please feel free to leave a review! It's been... a hot minute since I've posted a work, so I apologise for any wonkiness.
> 
> Thanks again!  
> Avalon <3

_Ca-chak, ca-chak. Ca-chak, ca-chak._

The sounds of the train running along the tracks is barely heard by Makoto Yuki, who sits in his booth seat with the volume on his MP3 player turned up almost as far as it can go. He props his chin up on a palm and leans against the train’s window, brushing some blue locks out of his eyes to watch the world pass him by. Pinpricks of light in the darkness of night-time denote the homes of happy families which have been together for all their lives. Makoto scowls, his thoughts bouncing around with the beat of the music. Another packed bag, another train-ride and another batch of faces to get used to seeing for a few years before he is inevitably shipped off somewhere else.

It wasn’t even his _fault_ the last few times. It didn’t take long for the few family members of his to shunt him to another family friend or associate. Always a collection of excuses to help carry him to his destination. _“Sorry Koto, we’ve got to fly overseas for work.” “The school doesn’t have any room, but there’s another a couple of hours away. We know some people out there!” “We can’t afford to have you here.” “Get the hell out, you creepy piece of-”_

And so on.

He had tried it all. Keep quiet and they let you fade into the background and forget you. Speak your mind and they look at you like a mad person. Talk about the past and they would try to avoid you. Talk about your feelings and they’d pity you. He’d seen such expressions on family, guardians, therapists and teachers all throughout his life. Even more so if they had heard about his past.

But that all said… maybe this time would be different. Makoto sits back in his seat and unwraps a packaged sweet bun, beginning to chew on it. In the past, he had always been shoved into any spare room a family may have had. Often, he would have to share with their own children. Now he’s old enough to have his own room in, according to the pamphlet shoved into his pocket, a student dormitory. No more having to deal with awkward conversations with guardians trying to connect with him. His own space to relax and call his own.

At least, for now.

The faintest _bong_ manages to bleed its way past the music rocketing into Makoto’s ears. He thumbs the MP3 player, taking the volume down a few notches so that he could listen to the announcement. Maybe it would be a cancellation of service, and everyone would be told to get off the train. Maybe he would have to head off into the Japanese countryside and fight for survival, trying to find the nearest village. Maybe he’d die out there, attacked by some wild animal or another passenger gone feral. He glances to the window again and sees a cluster of lights not too far away. Maybe not, then. _Ah well_.

“Attention, passengers. We sincerely apologise for any inconvenience caused by the delay. The next stop is Iwatodai. Iwatodai.”

Makoto lets out a sigh. The train had been stuck at one of the earlier stations for hours, reportedly due to a suicide on the track further down the line. He wonders if they had already passed over the point where the person threw themselves into the clattering jaws of death. _Tch. Some people have all the luck._ If this dorm had some sort of benefactor, Makoto was sure he could look forward to a scolding for being late. What a wonderful start.

Iwatodai, huh? Connected to Port Island, both are names that Makoto remembers with a mix of emotions. Happy days wandering in the sunlight around the shiny city. Laughter and good food, smiling people on the streets. Sweet treats bought from stalls, the sand in his toes, and the gentle wash of the waves, the agonised screams and the searing flames and the blood trickling into his eyes and the grinding tear of metal-

Makoto turns the music up again. The memories are muzzled, fading back to wherever they came from. Never truly gone, but away for now.

* * *

Not too far from the train’s destination, a young woman sits on the floor of a bathroom, desperately drawing in breath. The sink behind her is slowly filling with water from the open faucet, the sound almost like static, white noise against the panic she feels. One hand is pressed against the floor, fingers digging in as though trying to grasp it and tear it open. The other hand shakes as it closes around the grip of the source of her fear, a sleek pistol.

“I… just lift it to my head… a-and pull the trigger.”

Her breath begins to stick in her throat as her hand raises the weapon far too slowly. She should be able to do it now, right? Her eyes track the barrel as it begins to pass in front of her. In her mind she knows she will not die and yet her heart and body scream at her to throw the weapon aside. She sees the barrel twitch and grits her teeth, breath seeping out from within as she begs herself to stop shaking.

If the others can do it, so can she.

Right?

Her jaw unlocks as she gasps, feeling the weapon’s cold tip press to her forehead, a promise of death and nothingness at its touch. A finger rests ever so gently against the trigger. One more movement. One simple twitch of the finger and she’s done. And yet her hand continues to shake, refusing to lessen its grip, as though the gun was a final lifeline above the void.

Just pull the trigger. Just pull the trigger. Pull it. Pull the trigger. _PULL THE DAMNED TRIGGER._

Her eyes squeeze themselves shut, no longer able to bear the sight of her finger on the trigger. All she hears is the rattling gasps of her breath, her heartbeat in her ears and the scream of the water running into the sink.

For the barest moment she feels a hand ruffle her hair, the sounds in her ears dimmed by a warm and familiar laugh. A wet sob escapes her, taking all the strength in her body with it. The icy cold of the gun’s barrel leaves its ghost behind on her skin as it falls out of her hand and clatters against the floor. She pulls her knees to her chest and clutches them, pressing her face against them.

Her whole body shakes, with tears rather than terror. Between sobs she curses her weakness and cowardice. Inside, something ugly tells her that those traits will be the death of her.

* * *

A man in a rumpled business suit lets out a loud snore. Makoto glances at his slumped form across the aisle and sneers. The gift of life ground down at an office, working on the same thing day in and day out. What a worthwhile existence. Now the businessman would probably miss his stop. He would then take a taxi back home, drag himself through the door, have a reheated meal and slump into bed to do it all again the next day. And the next day, and the next. And that would be his life.

What a waste. No wonder people were throwing themselves in front of trains.

Makoto’s eyes slide down the carriage to see a cluster of high schoolers apparently out on the town. They were all dressed casually but with flair and even though he couldn’t hear them, Makoto could tell they were having fun together. Smiles on their faces, laughter on their lips. Something within him stirs, some coiled mass of envy. Had he ever laughed like that with people his own age?

Once upon a time, perhaps. He knots the snake within him and turns his eyes back to the window. _What would happen if one of them just dropped dead right now?_ There’d probably be screams, tears, calls for help. The businessman would wake up and feel torn between helping or turning a blind eye. The police would come and start asking questions after the body was wrapped up and tossed into a coroner’s office somewhere.

In any case, they would all probably get to where they were going even later. Makoto glances at the time display on the train’s digital destination banner. Almost midnight. He frowns. What if the dorm was locked? Hadn’t considered that… The pamphlet has a contact number written on it, so that’s an option. As he mulls it over, the train begins to slow.

 _Bong._ “We are now approaching Iwatodai Station. Once again, we apologise for the delay to this service, and we thank you for your patience. Now approaching: Iwatodai Station.”

Makoto stands and rolls his shoulders, before reaching down to heft his bag onto one of them. All it contains are a few changes of clothing, a few personal possessions, some charging cables, his laptop, some snacks. Enough to see him through the journey at least. The rest of his belongings were picked up by a moving company a week ago and should be waiting for him at the dorm. Hopefully. _Man, it’d be really easy to just pretend to have a moving service and steal a couple things when moving it all. No-one’d notice._ He tosses the empty bun wrapper onto the seat behind him and makes his way to the train doors, passing the businessman as he goes. _Wake him up?_ He watches a little drool make its way down the man’s chin. _Nah_.

The teens all fall quieter as he passes them, shifting in their seats to give him some more room. Makoto doesn’t even seem to notice. The train stops, and the doors rattle open. A voice comes over the station PA, “Iwatodai, Iwatodai. This is the last train bound for Tatsumi Port Island. Please make sure you board in time for departure.”

Last train, huh? _Hope this isn’t that business guy’s stop._ Makoto exits the train and wanders over to the ticket gate and taps his rail pass onto the reader. The gate opens and he steps through, returning the pass to his pocket and withdrawing the dorm pamphlet. ‘Iwatodai Dormitory Move-In Guide’ is written on the front in bold text, over a picture of the dorm itself. It seems like the same kind of non-descript brownstone building you would see all over the place. _At least it looks clean._

Underneath the picture is a barebones map of the surrounding area, including a small box which is noted as ‘Iwatodai Station.’ Makoto chuckles, _You Are Here_. He looks up from the pamphlet to search for the exit to the station, eyes passing over a large clock which hangs from the station ceiling.

 _And here comes midnight._ His heart beats just a little faster. _I wonder…_

Makoto watches as the second hand _tick tick tick_ s its way to twelve. The moment that all three clock hands line up, the music pumping into his ears is abruptly cut off. He winces and takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. In the same moment, all the lights in the station blink out, leaving the arrival hall lit only by an eerie green light from the moon. A clammy and oppressive atmosphere descends upon the boy, sending shivers along his skin. He hears nothing but the hollow wail of the wind, and the _drip, drip_ of something crimson dripping from the clock and onto the floor.

An all too wide grin works its way onto Makoto’s face. _Ah, the more things change…_ He stretches, spreading his arms wide. The air resists him just a little more than usual, enough that it wouldn’t be noticeable at first, but Makoto had gotten used to walking through it. It does still take its toll if he’s out for too long, but that’s a small price to pay for his own space. Unfortunately, it had already been a long day and Makoto feels the weight of sleep resting on his brow. _Places to be, I suppose_. He glances at the pamphlet again, then folds it haphazardly and stuffs it back into his pocket. A sign near the clock reads ‘exit.’ “That’ll do,” he mutters, heading in that direction. The green light seems to only exaggerate the darkness around him, and someone more paranoid might fear over what could be hiding within such voids. _Thoughts for later._

After a while, he finds himself wandering down an open street, flanked by tall buildings and storefronts. His step is light and a little jaunty as he hums the song that was previously playing on his MP3, his fingers drumming the beat on the air around him. The buildings all cast deep shadows, red liquid seeps from the windows, streaming down the bricks. It collects in growing pools on the streets, on the roads, flowing into the drains.

Somewhere in the distance, an agonised scream tears through the air. Makoto pauses, looking over in that direction. _Unlucky_. Something cold starts to seep around his left foot. He looks down and sees his shoe half-immersed in a pool of the viscous red liquid. _Tch. Guess whoever that is isn’t the only unlucky one_. The red liquid stains the shoe as Makoto pulls it out with a scowl. He tries to scrub it off with his hand, only managing to smear it into the material, and leave his hand equally stained.

 _Hmm…_ The grin returns to his face as Makoto lifts one of his fingers to his mouth to touch his tongue to the remnants of the red liquid on it. _Oh, ew, still gross_. He gags and tries to spit the liquid out. The flavour is an insipid blend of salty and metallic, as foul as he remembered. It coated his taste buds, clinging to them like a film. It could be described as blood-like but only if the blood had congealed, spoiled and then melted again, leaving the taste exaggerated and rancid.

As the taste beat his mouth into submission, Makoto screws up his face and searches for some reprieve. _Wild-Duck Burger? It’ll do_. He goes to rush into the store, but the automatic door doesn’t sweep open to allow him entry. _Ugh_. Makoto rolls his eyes and grips one of the doors to brute force it open. _I can still taste it, gah!_

Inside, a few imposing looking coffins stand in the booths, with two more dotted behind the counter. In the corner a strange inflatable super-ero mascot rocks back and forth next to a cluster of balloons with clown designs. The menu behind the counter is hard to read without the back-lights, but Makoto can see such wonderful items as ‘The Duck Double,’ ‘Mallard Meals’ and some ungodly monstrosity called the ‘Peta-Wac Set.’

Makoto spins around to the nearest table, seizing the to-go cup on top of it. _Half-empty. Beggars can’t be choosers._ He places his lips around the straw and drains the cup of its life-saving sugary nectar. _Ah, cheap cola. My hero_. Crisis averted, he surveys the store, particularly the table in front of him. Now that the drink is missing, all that is left is a mostly intact burger and a portion of fries. _Hello, dinner!_ He takes up the greasy burger and takes a few bites, nodding in appreciation. Not exactly high cuisine, but it fills the stomach and tastes decent enough going down.

Makoto flops into the empty seat opposite the coffin in the booth, “Hey buddy, this seat free?” He laughs, reaching over to pull the fries in his direction. “Cool.”

How long had it been since he left the station? Ten minutes, maybe a little more? “I’ve got time. Hey, sorry about taking your food by the way.” The coffin does not deign to respond. “Aw, no hard feelings? What a gentleman.”

He shoves a handful of the fries and chows down, scrutinising the coffin. It looks the same as every other one he had seen during this odd time period. A glossy black surface with silver trim. No differences in terms of shape or size, standing at around six or seven foot. He takes the time to eat most of the food. Better than letting it go to waste.

Leaving his seat, Makoto washes down the fries with the last few dregs of cola. “Hellooo? Anyone in there?” He moves around the table to lean closer to the coffin, almost pressing his cheek to the surface. Intense cold radiates from it, the kind of cold that cuts to the very bone. Makoto raps on the wood once, twice, three times, then listens to the coffin.

_C’mon, do something. Let there be a voice, a sound, a knock back, something!_

Nothing.

“Tch.” Makoto straightens up and yawns, “Boring. Thanks for the meal.” He turns to the exit, eating the last of the burger so that he has his hands free to force the door again. Back on the street, he takes out the pamphlet to check his progress. A little further to go. He orients himself and continues on his way, then opens the pamphlet to read through the information on the inside. It reads as expected, all blocks of text about his new life with friends in a ‘modern and cosy’ dormitory. He does note one paragraph mentioning a curfew after 10pm.

 _Oops_.

* * *

The girl in the bathroom takes a deep, shuddering breath, and glances out of the window. The tears have dried on her skin, leaving dry tracks which catch the gloomy green light slipping in from outside.

“The Dark Hour…” She sighs and slowly stands. Mitsuru had put her on guard for the dorm tonight, and here she was, crying in the bathroom like she was still seven. She looks in the mirror, seeing a morose looking girl in a pink sweater with tear tracks on her face. “Ugh, I’m a mess.”

She closes the still-running faucet, which was pouring with red liquid rather than clear water, “Guess I can’t clean my face…” Bunching her sleeves, she rubs at her skin until the tracks are rubbed away. Unfortunately, there’s nothing she can do about the red in her eyes. “At least the others are in their rooms. No-one’s gonna see me like this.” She lets out a hollow laugh. They probably already knew about her fighting with the weapon but were kind enough to not say anything.

Or perhaps, in the case of one of her seniors, didn’t care enough to ask. “Tch.” She takes another breath, holding it for a moment as it fills her chest. She lets it all out, picturing her stress and worry floating away with it. “Eeeeeverything is fine. C’mon Yukari. You’re good.” She gives her reflected image a smile.

Unconvincing.

She pouts and smacks her cheeks with her hands, “Let’s go!” She goes to make her way for the door. The Dark Hour shouldn’t take too long to end. Once it does, she can go to bed and put this whole day behind her. Just another day. No need to think about dying in a bathroom somewhere. Speaking of… Her foot knocks against something on the floor. She looks down, and sees her Evoker lying on the floor. The barrel reflects the light of the moon, shining in a creepy sort of way. “Ugh. Why’d she leave _me_ on guard?”

Yukari bends and picks up the Evoker gingerly, shoving it back in its holster without looking at it too much. Shadows haven’t attacked the dorm before, and even if they do, Akihiko would be out there to fight them the moment he found out they were nearby. So instead she gets to wander around in the creepy middle of the night, waiting for the hour to pass. Her mind relays the few horror stories she had heard from friends or on TV, ensuring that it believes every corner, nook and cranny were potential hiding places for a ghost, ghoul or murderer.

“I need a distraction. I’ve got that book in my room… I guess I could grab that.” She pats herself down, gets the dust off the back of her skirt, and leaves the bathroom to head for her room. Just another night. Just another day. Tomorrow will get here, eventually.

* * *

As he rounds a corner, Makoto is surprised to see a building which actually has light coming from the inside. A warm, yellow-toned light that spills out from the windows on the ground floor, pushing back the dull green gloom surrounding it. He turns the pamphlet to the image of the dorm and compares it to the lit building.

 _Well how about that_. Even in the darkness, Makoto could tell the image and the building in front of him are one and the same. He returns the pamphlet to his pocket and wanders over to the dorm, climbing the few steps to the door. This would be his new home for the foreseeable future. Not the best first impression, but hey, who really cares?

As his hand closes around the door handle, something in his mind pipes up. _What if they aren’t expecting you tonight, now?_ Huh? _Well, what if they think you’re coming tomorrow? Maybe there’s someone in there who is super paranoid, and will attack the moment someone comes through the door?_ Would that happen? Someone standing behind the door, seeing him approach… waiting for his guard to be down and for him to walk in, then making sure the back of his head has an intimate meeting with… _A baseball bat?_ Yeah that works.

He grins again. Time will tell. He pushes the door open and steps inside, holding his breath momentarily. To his disappointment, he hears no panicked yell and feels nothing strike him. Instead, he is met with an ordinary, if a little outdated, lobby. The space is lit by two large lamps flanking the doors, and a larger light fixture which hangs above a low table to his right. The table itself is surrounded by well-loved brown leather sofas and seats, with a boxy CRT TV standing not too far away. Makoto tries to peer into the back of the room, but the lights are still out. Past some glass panels, he thinks he can see some sort of long table.

All in all, a perfectly normal space. _Modern, huh? Sure._ Never trust a pamphlet. Makoto reaches up to remove his headphones and hangs them around his neck. _No welcome part-_

“You’re late.”

 _Speak of the devil._ Makoto quickly looks in the direction of the voice. A large reception counter is to his left and on it sits a small boy, likely no older than thirteen. The boy has scruffy, short black hair and is wearing an equally scruffy pyjama-like outfit with large black stripes running across it. On his face is a warm smile, and the most unsettlingly blue eyes Makoto had ever seen. The eyes were unblinking and almost seemed to glow from within, piercing Makoto to his core. “Hello?”

The boy kicks his legs, which dangle off the edge of the counter, “Hello. I’ve been waiting a long time for you.” He watches Makoto expectantly, that smile never wavering. His voice is gentle and smooth, like the flat of a knife.

 _What is this kid’s deal? Does he live here? Does he_ work _here?_ Maybe this place was more interesting than he originally thought. Still, time to put on the face. Makoto lets his expression soften and allows a small smile to grace his lips. Gentle, ordinary, and uninteresting. That’s him. “Oh, of course. I’m sorry you’ve had to wait for me, there was a delay on the trains.” Makoto gives a half bow to the boy, “I’m sorry for any trouble I have caused.”

He hears the boy chuckle at that and looks up. The child looks down at him, and his smile seems to have widened, “No trouble at all.” They lift a hand and snap their fingers, and suddenly the boy is gone.

_Wha-_

“Now, if you want to proceed, please sign your name there.” Makoto turns his head to see the boy now standing in front of him. _Oh-kaaay… freaky. Maybe I’m going crazy._ He takes half a step back. _More crazy_. The boy has a hand out, indicating in the direction of the counter. Where the boy had been sitting now lays a slim red leather file, with an inkpot and quill next to it. “Don’t worry. All it says is that you’ll accept full responsibility for your actions.”

Makoto looks at the contract book, which opens of its own accord, as though a breeze had decided to raise the cover itself. Inside is a smaller, formal looking piece of paper. He looks back to the boy, who still has their hand out to the contract. “So, uh…” He clears his throat, regathering himself, “It’s just a resident’s contract, or something like that?”

Again, the boy chuckles, “Something like that, yes. You know, the usual stuff.” The entire time, his eyes have not left Makoto’s face. _And he still hasn’t blinked._

“So, it’s not me agreeing to be sold to someone, or kidnapped or something?” The boy tilts his head, the smile not shrinking. Makoto lets out an awkward laugh, which the boy shares with him after a moment.

“My, you have quite the morbid outlook.”

Makoto’s normal face slips a little at that, his gaze sharpening just a touch. He quickly pastes it back on and shrugs, then moves over to the contract with a yawn. There’s a bed with his name on it somewhere in this building, and it looks like he’ll have to appease the gatekeeper before seeing it. He looks down at the paper and takes up the quill, quickly scanning the words of the contact.

The contract is only a few sentences long. ‘Time never waits. It delivers all equally to the same end. I, the undersigned, hereby agree to this statement and I chooseth this fate of mine own free will. The consequences of such will are mine to bear.’ At the bottom, a line for Makoto to sign on. _Chooseth? Why is this written like an old playscript?_ He looks over his shoulder at the stripy-clothed boy. _No specific demands or anything. No agreement to being assassinated._ The boy in question is watching Makoto intently, and lifts an eyebrow when Makoto turns to look, then gives a cheery wave.

Makoto lifts his hand to wave back, then sighs and touches the quill to the paper. He pauses for a moment, and then signs ‘Makoto Yuki’ as neat as he can. After doing so, he allows himself a little welling of pride at how natural it felt to do so. Really, if the contract just asks him to accept the consequences of… anything, that includes signing the contract. Or not signing it. So, may as well sign and have somewhere to live.

“Well, there we are then.” Makoto starts and looks to his side, where the boy is now standing on tiptoes to look at the contract. His expression remains jovial as he observes Makoto’s name on paper, “Thank you very much.” The boy reaches out and closes the contract, then lifts it into his hands.

“So… that’s it?”

“That’s it. Contract signed.” The boy nods and presses the contract book to his chest, “Like it says, none of us can escape Time. It delivers us all to the same end.” He nods, as though the statement made any sort of sense. His eyes fall on Makoto’s headphones, and he lifts the book so that one of his eyes are obscured by it, “Remember, you can’t plug your ears and cover your eyes. Just some advice.”

As he talks the boy turns the book so that the spine faces Makoto. In doing so, the book seems to fold into the air itself, disappearing entirely. Makoto grins, a ghost of his actual face, “Neat trick.”

The boy bows his head and chuckles once more, “You are most kind.” As he looks up, his eyes flit over to one of the windows. His smile shrinks, and he looks back to Makoto, “Alas, it seems my time is up.”

“Oh?” _Thank god._

Wordlessly, the boy lifts a hand towards Makoto, slowly. As it moves, the darkness in the back of the room starts to pull forward and the warm lights in the lobby dim. It continues forward, the green glow of the moon leaking in through the windows. Makoto is locked in place, unable to look away from the bright blue eyes. The darkness seems to consume the boy from behind, until all that Makoto can see are those glowing eyes and the very tips of his hand.

“And so it begins… have fun.” With a laugh, the darkness swallows up the eyes, and the lights in the room blink out. Makoto is left standing in the lobby, once again surrounded by the comfortable gloom of the hidden hour. The boy is nowhere to be seen, the inkpot and quill are missing from the counter. It is just Makoto, a collection of houseplants and flowers and the lingering sense of absolute confusion.

“Uh… huh.” The face drops from Makoto once more. _What the fu-_

“Who’s there!?” A higher-pitched woman’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp and aggressive.

 _Oh, come on! Can’t I get a minute?_ Makoto turns once more to face the speaker, frustration on his face. A little deeper into the lobby, in the direction of a tall flight of stairs, stands a young woman, likely around his age. She wears a fairly cute pink sweater, with a red ribbon tied around the neck of a white shirt. Makoto lets his eyes trail down. A short skirt, knee-high socks and… _Is that a holster? And a_ gun _!? Oh wow, it’s actually happening!_ His eyes dart back up to the woman, hands beginning to raise on instinct, “Uh…” Gotta get the face back on!

The girl seems to flinch as he speaks, and she snaps open the restraint on the holster. Her hand shakes as it hovers above the grip on the gun, bloodshot brown eyes fixed on Makoto. _She’s either been crying, or she’s on something. Either way, unstable._ “But… how’re… Unless….” Her eyes widen, and her hand closes around the grip. In a sharp movement, the gun leaves its holster and looks to be on its way to pointing at Makoto.

 _Come on come on come on come on do it, do it, pull the trigger do it!_ Makoto tries to not let whatever is inside him show on his face as he raises his hands, “Woah, hey, don’t shoot! I’ve got so much to live for!” _Gotta put up some sort of defence._

The girl falters, though the gun barrel seems to continue travelling upwards. Her arms bend, as though to turn the gun on herself. _Uh… I’m down here?_ “Wh-What?”

“Takeba, stop!”

Makoto blinks, and glances towards the stairs. The so-called ‘Takeba’ does the same. Standing on them is another woman, this one wearing a long skirt and a white shirt with a pleated front. Makoto immediately notes a few things. _One, another gun and holster at her hip._ Someone else to shoot him. _Two, what’s that armband?_ For indeed, the woman wears a red armband around her left arm, with some sort of lettering on it. In fact, it looked like ‘Takeba’ was wearing the same armband. _And three… check out that hair!_ The hair in question being long, red and flowing, obscuring one of her brown-red eyes. _She seems more stable at least_. _And hot. Shut up, me._

The woman looks down at ‘Takeba’ with a stern expression, who tries to speak out a “But, Mitsu-”

Shaking her head, the woman looks to Makoto and smiles. It’s a tight smile, but it seems welcoming enough, “Don’t worry. He’s just an ordinary transfer student.”

“What d’you mean, ordinary?” ‘Takeba’ mutters, but also looks to Makoto. As she turns, the lights in the room come back on, illuminating the lobby overall. The three of them take a moment to blink until their eyes adjust, and Makoto picks up on the quiet beat of his music. He lets out a relieved sigh, glad that the device hadn’t broken. It hadn’t so far, but he still worried each time it went out.

 _Right, let’s put the best foot forward. Throw on the face, smile!_ He drops one hand, leaving the other up to brush his blue hair out of his eyes, then set itself into a little salute, “Hey there! I’m Makoto Yuki, I’m transferring here. Sorry for being so late! I look forward to our time together!”

He looks at the two women in front of him. One looks at him with bemusement on her face. The other with a mixture of concern and confusion. _I wonder what they’d look like as they died…_ He gives them both a sweet liar’s smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey folks! You made it to the end of the chapter! So, I'll talk a little about the fic, or more accurately, Makoto Yuki themself. This fic will step away from the original canon in a number of places as a result of two changes to the Protagonist. One of them should be obvious: Makoto's deathwish. Omen!Makoto is like Movie Canon Makoto turned up to eleven. However, rather than being uncaring about life, he actively scorns it.  
> Presently, at least. This ought to cause some more friction between the members of SEES and Makoto, and change how Makoto will behave in particular scenarios.  
> The second change is a little less obvious for now (though eagle-eyed readers might have picked up on a clue or two). It will probably become a little more obvious within the next few chapters, and I'll talk about it a bit more when we get there.  
> Hope you're all nice and comfy! I sincerely hope it will be an enjoyable ride.


	2. Best Foot Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that has caused me to add "Slow Burn" to the tag list. We're on our way to the big boom, people! Thanks to you all for reading!

Yukari frowns, eyes on the strange blue-haired boy smiling at her. Clearly, he’s able to be in the Dark Hour, and clearly he hadn’t been attacked by any Shadows. _Did he walk all the way here from the station during the Dark Hour?_ But even being in the Dark Hour is enough to wear her out, she sleeps like a rock any time that she must stay up through it.

So how can this person be here, looking all… cheerful? Like all is right and simple in the world. Either he’s horribly oblivious, or scarily optimistic.

In either case, it’s weird.

“Well, we certainly weren’t expecting you so late. But I can admire your bright attitude.” Yukari looks over her shoulder to see Mitsuru descending the stairs, making her way over to Yukari’s side. Her expression is as hard to read as ever, the glacial and practiced expression of a Student Council member. For a moment, her senior’s eyes flick over to her and Yukari feels she’s trying to say something. It could have easily been ‘don’t worry,’ but Yukari got the sense it was more ‘don’t say anything.’

The boy gives an airy laugh, “So sorry, really. There were delays on the train, someone kinda jumped in front of one earlier on. You know how it is.” His smile remains easy and relaxed, despite the morbidity of his words. Yukari blinks at the news, opens her mouth to say something, but remembers Mitsuru’s glance.

“Ah.” In fact, it seems that Miss President-to-be herself was caught off guard by that, the mask of formality developing a minor hairline crack, “Well, I’m… sorry for the trouble.” Mitsuru shifts in place, looking to the floor. If the boy realised the shift in atmosphere, he didn’t react at all. “That aside… My name is Mitsuru Kirijo. I’m one of the students who live here.”

Good recovery. Yukari takes her eyes off Makoto, “So, who’s he?” She treats Mitsuru to a look of her own, and there’s a little venom in it. _She could’ve at least told me someone was coming._

“ _He_ is right here.” The boy raises a hand again.

Yukari rolls her eyes, _Oh great, another Junpei._ In answer, Mitsuru gives Yukari one of her ‘I-know-more-than-you-do’ smiles, “He’s a transfer student, as I said.” Yukari resists the urge to scowl, “It was a last-minute decision to assign him here. He’ll eventually be moved to a room in the boys’ dorm.”

“Is it… _safe_ for him to be here?”

Yukari notices the hard edge to Mitsuru’s eyes as she looks back to Makoto. Her lips turn up in another small smile, but it’s like a painting on a wall. Meaningless and fake, “I suppose we will see.” That’s ‘Mitsuru’ for ‘Stop asking questions, Yukari.’

_Ugh. Like she knows everything._

She probably does, about this at least.

The transfer student watches this conversation, not privy to the non-verbal details. His smile hasn’t faltered the entire time. Noticing the two of them have stopped talking, he meets Yukari’s eyes, “So, if she’s Miss Kirijo, you are… Miss Takeba, yes? Do you have a first name?”

His eyes have the same veneer as Mitsuru’s, a wall which only allows you to see a certain depth. All that Yukari can glean from his expression is an oddly relaxed attitude, “Oh uh… yeah. I’m Yukari. Hey.” She tries to insert a bit more energy into her voice, trying to make sure he doesn’t pick up on her concern.

Even she’s unconvinced.

_Second time tonight._

“She’ll be a junior this spring, just like you.”

Makoto nods at that, his eyes trailing a little down Yukari’s body as he does so. Something about his gaze unsettles her slightly, but he looks back up before she can say anything. His smile twitches, getting a little wider. Another raised hand, and his expression changes to something a little shyer, “So uh… Why d’you have a gun?”

He seems almost apologetic as he asks, his eyes flickering down to the holster strapped to Yukari’s eyes. She follows his gaze and sees her hand still open, hovering over the weapon’s grip. _Oh._ She tries to tell herself to relax, letting the hand drop behind her back as she puts on a smile. _Okay, gotta come up with a good reason. How much does he know? Has Mitsuru told him anything before he got here?_ “Oh, w-well it’s uh… sort of like… a hobby?” She damned how unsure she sounded.

The boy’s eyebrows lift a little, his smile turning a little less fixed and a little more playful, “A _hobby_? What kinda hobby do you have which needs a gun?”

_C’mon, don’t get all flustered! Think of something!_ She gives a light laugh, waving a hand, “Oh, well, you know, it’s not really a hobby but…” To her chagrin, she finds herself looking to Mitsuru for assistance.

“It’s for self-defence. You know how it is these days, it’s important to protect yourself.” Mitsuru pats the gun at her own hip, “It’s not a _real_ gun, of course.”

_Not going to thank her for that_. Though, Yukari should’ve thought of it first. She has to get better at this. _Technically, she’s not even lying. Tch… Guess she’s got practice making speeches._ But to be fair, Yukari wasn’t expecting to run into someone she didn’t know during the Dark Hour. Despite her disappointment in herself, she spots Makoto’s shoulders drop a little at Mitsuru’s clarification.

“Well, like I said, I’m Makoto Yuki. Thanks for giving me a place to stay.”

“Speaking of which…” Misturu nods at Makoto, “You’re probably feeling rather tired, since it’s getting late. Yukari can take you up to your room.”

Yukari blinks and looks to Mitsuru once more, _Oh, can I?_

“Your room is up on the second floor, at the end of the hallway.” Mitsuru steps to the side and nods towards the stairs, “Your things arrived a little while ago, and we had them placed inside.” She reaches into a pocket on her skirt, withdrawing a small key, “This will unlock your door. Be sure to keep it safe.”

Makoto crouches and lifts his bag onto his shoulder, then walks over to Mitsuru and takes the key from where it dangles in her fingers, “Thanks, Miss Kirijo.” He tosses the key into the air with a flick of his wrist, catching it and placing it into his own pocket.

“Takeba? If you would be so kind.” Mitsuru turns her smile to Yukari, who nods awkwardly.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” The junior starts making her way to the stairs, gesturing for Makoto to follow her, “This way, Yuki. Sorry for making you wait.” She tries to give him an easy smile, but anxiety still jangles about in her chest. _Calm down. The Dark Hour’s gone for now. We’re okay._

As they climb the stairs, Yukari glances behind her. His eyes are on the steps between them, focused upon them as though they were revealing some sort of secret. The smile has left his face, making him appear almost grim. _Weiiiird._ “So, uh… are you hungry?”

“Huh?” He looks up to her, seemingly surprised by the question.

“Are you hungry? We’ve got a kitchen here, but it’s really just us who do the cooking. So, if you want something, I guess I could see if we’ve got any leftovers…” Yukari doesn’t quite know why she’s trying to make conversation. It just felt awkward to traipse him to the room and not say anything at all.

There’s something in the smile he gives her, something mischievous and secretive, “Oh uh, don’t worry about it. I ate on the way here.” The smile becomes a smirk as he glances away from her.

“Right…” _C’mon, think of something to say! He’s gonna think you’re… weird._ She doesn’t quite catch the irony. Her mind replays a scene of her seeing him lurking in the lobby, and her pulling her Evoker on him. _Well… weirder, I guess_. She inwardly groans. Talk about ruining a first meeting, “It’s really only me and one of the other students who use it. Kirijo can’t really cook at all. She once tried to make dinner for us, and it was…”

_Bad? Lacking in flavour? Too much flavour? Poisonous? Could probably take out a Shadow? Made Akihiko take a day off school?_

“Not great.”

Makoto chuckles, “We all start somewhere.” He looks up at her and gives the same bright smile he gave with his introduction, “I’m actually a fairly good cook, myself. I’d be happy to make us all a meal some night, Miss Takeba.”

“Oh uh… that’d be nice.”

They make their way down the hallway, passing a few doors as they go. Makoto looks around at them as they pass, eyes trailing on each of the brass plates that are affixed next to each room. One reads ‘Aragaki, Shinjiro,’ another ‘Sanada, Akihiko.’ The rest are all blank, “So, is it just the three of us staying here?” It was said very casually, almost as though Makoto had no interest in the answer in the first place.

Yukari shakes her head, “No, there’s another student here.” She indicates the door with Akihiko’s name, “Akihiko’s a senior, same as Kirijo. He’s probably asleep by now though, so you’ll meet him tomorrow.” In truth, she knew that Akihiko was likely only just about to head to bed. He always stayed up through the Dark Hour, waiting for the chance to dive into a fight. _He might even be listening now._ “Oh, and the school’s Director visits sometimes. Other than that, it’s pretty much just us.”

Makoto tilts his head at that, “Guess it’s not really a popular dorm then.” His lips take on that odd bent again. He doesn’t seem to realise.

Yukari shrugs, stopping at the end of the hall, “Well, this is your room. Pretty easy to remember, right? Since it’s all the way at the end of the hall?” She gives an awkward laugh, _Oh my god you sound so stupid uuuugh, shut up shut up!_

“Oh, yeah. But if I get lost, you’ve gotta promise to help me,” He grins, taking the key out of his pocket and heading for the door.

“Right… Oh and make sure you don’t lose that.” She nods at his key, “If you do, you’ll never hear the end of it from Kirijo.” Yukari watches him turn his back to her. _Should I ask? If he knows anything, it’ll be the easiest way to find out. But if he hasn’t mentioned it…_ She scowls momentarily. If she asks and he isn’t thinking about it, would it make it more suspicious? _Whatever._ “Any questions?”

Makoto pauses and glances over his shoulder, giving her a long look, “Questions? Sure… Who’s that kid, downstairs?” There’s something in his eyes which makes the question seem more ominous than it sounds.

“Mitsuru…?”

“What? No, the kid.” He turns and levels a hand just below his chest, “About yea high. _Really_ blue eyes. Kinda creepy.”

_What the hell is he talking about?_ “Uh…” _Wait…_ She feels her eyes widen, _Wait, did a Shadow sneak in? B-But I didn’t see anything!_ Her hand twitches towards the Evoker again, but something brings her pause, _No, that can’t be possible… If it was a Shadow, Mitsuru would have sensed it. Right?_

“Uh… Miss Takeba? You okay?”

_So, not a Shadow… A small kid…_ Something in the back of her mind whispers the word ‘ghost.’ She feels a chill creep across her skin. _No way. No. Way. There’s no such thing as ghosts. No such thing._

“Miss Takeeeebaaaa?”

Yukari blinks, focusing on Makoto’s hand, which is waving back and forth in front of her eyes, “Oh uh… what?”

“You good? You kinda spaced out there.” He gives her a half-smile, eyes betraying his concern with just a hint of judgement.

“No, I was just… thinking.” She shakes her head, “I-I don’t know what kid you’re talking about. You’re probably tired or something.”

“Sure… I guess.” He shrugs and turns back to the door.

_I gotta ask now, or I won’t have a chance!_

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

She thinks she catches a low sigh from the transfer student. He turns again, and she takes half a step back. There pleasant smile and gentle look had gone, replaced with irritation. But, in a moment, it swaps back again, and his gaze is soft, “Sure, Miss Takeba. What’s up?”

_Now or never._ “On your way here from the station… Was everything okay?” She tries to hide the implication between the words. If he recognises that they were both in the Dark Hour, surely, he’d ask her about it, right? Or at least _talk_ about it. The world fills with coffins! Water is blood! Who wouldn’t want to talk about it?

Makoto raises an eyebrow at that and frowns, placing his chin in his palm. “On my way here… Hum…” He rubs at his chin, holding the hum thoughtfully, looking off into the ceiling. It goes on for far too long, and Yukari is about to tell him it doesn’t matter, when his eyes flick down to meet hers. That glint returns to them, “Nope. Nothing worth mentioning.”

“Oh.” _Did he really not see anything? He must have!_ “Are you su-” Mitsuru’s warning glance comes back to her. “Uh… I see. Well, never mind then.”

She takes a breath and shakes her head, _If he doesn’t want to talk about it then… fair enough, I guess_. “Look, I’m sure you’ve got other questions, but can we leave them for later?” A yawn crawls up her throat and escapes her, “I should head to bed.”

Something like relief crosses his face for the barest second. Makoto nods, “Sure thing, Miss Takeba. Sleep well, yeah?”

“Yeah, you too. I’ll come get you in the morning, okay? For school. Make sure to be up on time.”

“You got it. G’night, Miss Takeba. Sorry for all the trouble.” He gives a slight bow, turns, and unlocks the door. As he steps in, Yukari turns away, not catching him giving her a steely glare out of the corner of his eye.

_Okay, that was weird, but he doesn’t seem… bad. He even seems a bit nice. Just… weird._ Yukari rolls her shoulders, working some of the anxious tension out of them. It had been a long night. She makes her way for the stairs, thinking over the meeting. _He’s… got a nice smile._ As she reaches the landing, sounds from downstairs catch her ear.

“- for waking you, Chairma-“

_Mitsuru?_ Yukari takes a couple steps back down to the first floor, trying to listen in. She leans to see under the ceiling, spotting Mitsuru standing by the doors to the dorm. In her hand is a sleek looking mobile.

“Yes, he arrived not lo-” She’s turned away from Yukari, making it hard to make out what she’s saying. Yukari takes a few more stairs, straining her ears to here. Her heart leaps out of her chest as one of the boards _creaaaak_ under her foot. _Crap!_ Mitsuru turns to look up the stairs, spotting Yukari quickly standing and trying to look casual. “Yes, I’ll call you again in the morning, Chairman. Good night.”

Yukari runs her fingers through the ends of her hair, taking a few more steps down. “Kirijo.”

Mitsuru gives Yukari a tired smile and inclines her head, “Takeba. Is he in his room?” She looks down and taps a few buttons on her phone before returning it to her pocket. Yukari couldn’t quite tell for sure, but it was almost definitely one of the newest models. _Tch_.

“Yeah, he is.” She looks back up the stairs, in the direction of Makoto’s room, before starting to walk down them, “You could’ve told me he was coming today, you know?”

“I’m… sorry?” Mitsuru blinks, crossing her arms under her chest. She isn’t putting up the perfect alabaster mask of the high-school heiress. Instead, she just looks tired.

“You could’ve said something, senpai. Especially since you put me on guard for the night.” Something bubbled up inside of Yukari. Maybe it was just the stress from earlier in the day, but it was cruel and wanted to lash out, “I thought he was a Shadow or something!”

Her senior closes her eyes and rubs the bridge of her nose, “I’m sorry, Takeba. I am. Honestly, I expected him tomorrow since it was so late.” She gives Yukari something approximating an apologetic look. It would look more genuine on someone else’s face, “It really was a very last-minute decision by the Chairman. I hope you weren’t too surprised.”

_She means ‘frightened.’_ “I’m fine, Kirijo. Not that yo-” She cuts herself off. It’s not worth the trouble.

“Good.” Mitsuru takes a breath and nods towards the ceiling, “So, what do you think?”

Yukari shrugs, “He seems nice, I guess. A little weird.”

Mitsuru lets out a chuckle and nods, “Well, we shall see. He’s certainly unique, from what I’ve read.”

_Read?_ “So, are we going to talk about how he can be in the Dark Hour?”

“That’s why the Chairman wanted him moved here.” Mitsuru steps across the room, heading for the stairs, “Judging by conversations with professionals, it seems he is no stranger to the Dark Hour. With Tartarus so close, the Chairman felt it would be best to have him here. With us.”

_With Persona users. Right._ She recalls being in the bathroom and feels the cold kiss of her Evoker’s barrel against her forehead. _Not that I really count._ Yukari steps to the side, letting Mitsuru climb the stairs. “Wait, so he _knows_ about the Dark Hour then?”

“We don’t quite know the extent of his knowledge. But he’s certainly been conscious of it.” The senior sighs, “We don’t really know much outside of that.” As she passes Yukari, her eyes meet her junior’s. There’s some warmth hidden in the tiredness within them, beneath the ice, “The Chairman will be here in a few days. Would you mind waiting until then to be filled in, Takeba?”

Yukari shrugs, “I guess.” _Not like she would tell me now anyway._ “Night, senpai.”

“Good night, Takeba.”

* * *

Makoto closes the door behind him and falls against it limply, letting his bag drop against the floor. He waits until he hears Yukari walk away before letting out a long groan. “Ohhhh my goooooooood.” He covers his eyes with has hands and lets the Ordinary Face melt off his skin. “They would not. Stop. Talking.” He shoots a glare at the door, in the general region of Yukari. _What was with all her questions? And what is she doing in my hidden hour? Hell, what about that other chick?_

He grits his teeth, lifting himself off the door. _Still, learnt a bit at least._ He took a moment to reel through the events of the night, particularly those within Iwatodai Dorm.

_One, Yukari_ does not _like Mitsuru. Bad blood there, past disagreements? Maybe she’s into her? Maybe it’s mutual and they hate each other? Mitsuru wasn’t exactly warm._ The shared looks, the bite to Yukari’s words. It spoke for itself, really. _It wouldn’t be too hard to turn them against each other, probably. Something to remember._

Next, the guns. _They’re lying. Or at least, Yukari is. A hobby? Unless she’s a hunter, she sucks at lying. What kind of hobby could you have in a city that involves guns, other than murder?_ A grin tugs at the corner of his lips. A potential partner in crime? _At least, they both know where to get realistic looking guns. That could be good to know._

The memory reels forward to climbing the stairs with Yukari. The image of her slipping, stumbling, and crashing into the step, head first. _Thump, thump, thump_ as she falls down the stairs, landing at the bottom, right in front of Mitsuru. The senior would shriek, calling for help. Makoto would be shocked, and they would both watch as Yukari’s blood began to pool under her, staining the whites of her staring eyes.

Something clawed at Makoto’s insides. He couldn’t tell if it was disgust, or delight.

It was probably both.

_Moving on._ All the questions. _She didn’t know about that weird kid. So, I must be going even more crazy than I already am_. He barked a dry laugh, _Didn’t think I’d ever get to hallucinations_.

Time delivers us all to the same end. _Might be something to that. Some of us sooner than others._

_Yukari knows more than she’s letting on. About me? Or my hidden hour?_ He looks up to the ceiling of the room, just about making it out in the darkness. _What if this is a set-up? What if they know everything, and are just waiting for someone to come cart me off to a facility for people like me?_

Unbidden, he yawns, and his muscles slacken. _I can speculate more later. If it happens, it happens. I gotta get some sleep._

He fumbles around near the door, his fingers eventually catching on the light-switch. With a _click_ a ceiling fixture blooms a warm glow and Makoto blinks until his eyes adjust. He casts a look across the room which will be his until the end of school, his death, or his removal to a facility. Whichever comes first.

His first impression of the room is… passable. Better than his last room, which had been little more than a hole in a wall with _just_ enough space for a futon. The owner of the house had said that he should consider himself lucky to even have that much, before tossing his belongings in an entirely separate part of the house. Makoto scowled as the memory managed to fight its way out of the tarpit of repression.

Still, this place wasn’t bad, really. Not too small, spacious enough. Three exterior windows, all currently covered by deep blue curtains. A simple rug on the hardwood floor, some currently empty shelves attached to the pale cream walls. A desk stands against the outside-facing walls, _Probably a good place for my laptop._ Or maybe studying. Makoto pulls a face at the thought.

As far as appliances, the room was pretty bare. Another boxy television on a small stand in the corner. Makoto couldn’t tell if it was plugged into a satellite, but hey, it’s 2009. _This place should have_ some _sort of modern technology_. Makoto steps a little further into the room, noting a small refrigerator next to a sink and a mirror. He gives the mirror a sharp look before his eyes drift over to the bed.

It looked soft enough, but his eyes were more drawn to the collection of cardboard boxes both on and around it. There were four in total. Those, plus the few items in his bag, were all his earthly possessions. He eyes each box, noting the one marked ‘Clothes,’ the next marked ‘School stuff’ and the third marked ‘Miscellaneous.’ That one contained a few decoration pieces from previous houses. A lamp, calendar, some cushions. Nothing major.

The last box had black masking tape sealing it four times over, long strips closing each edge, looping around and around. On what little cardboard remained visible were scrawled the words ‘Do Not Open!!!!’ Makoto twists his jaw. This was one of the boxes where the contents hadn’t changed from the day it was closed. He walks over to the bed, hefts up the box and places it onto the floor. _At least they listened to the sign._

“Where to put you…” Close to the door, one of the walls has a closet set into it, with a large sliding door. _Perfect_. With his foot, he slowly pushes the box across the floor and opens the closet. The stale scent of dust and mothballs leaks out. _Note to self, buy an air freshener_. He shoves the box into the bottom of the closet and closes the door. As far as he is concerned, it can stay there until the next time he moves.

_Why do I even bother keeping it…?_

A part of him knows the answer to that. A small, quiet, hopefully part of him. That part usually goes ignored.

He looks to the other boxes, then heaves the one remaining on his bed onto his floor. “I’ll sort you all out tomorrow,” he states, fighting through another yawn. “Speaking of…” He heads back to the door and takes up his bag, setting it onto the chair near his new desk. The laptop and its cables are placed on top. Then, out comes a black outfit bearing a crest on the left breast. His new school uniform. It’s a little wrinkled from being shoved into a bag and carted about, but it’s not like anyone would care.

Next, out come a few more outfits, a bottle of saline and a lens case, his phone charger, the charger for his MP3, a spare set of headphones. A warm winter scarf, a scrappy looking notebook, which is set next to the laptop. _Too tired to write into that. Later, maybe._ A length of rope follows, and lastly, he extracts a few packages of sweet treats with a grin. _Ah, it’s the little things_. Reaching in, he takes out a hard candy and unwraps it, tossing it into his mouth. Strawberry flavoured… nice.

As he sucks on the sweet, he wanders over to the mirror. _Let’s see…_ He leans forward and runs his hand through his fringe, lifting it to see the very base of his hairline. He squints and _reaaaaally_ peers close. For a moment he thinks he sees a little discolouration near the bottom of the hairs, right against his skull. But no, must just be the light. “Still…” Another thing to add to the shopping list.

Makoto reaches over the lens case and solution on the desk, placing them near his sink. _Right. Time for the fun part_. He opens the case and fills each divot with just enough solution. He washes his hands, then reaches his fingers up to an eye. Despite doing this so often, a part of him still wonders about what could happen if he slips, or just applies a little too much pressure. Would he lose his vision? Could he dig right through to the back of the socket?

_Not right now._ Even so, his heartbeat picks up as he delicately plucks each contact out of his eyes, then blinks at the slight sting. He drops the contacts into the case, one at a time, then carefully seals them up. The first time he’d put them in, he hadn’t taken them out until he woke up the next morning, and that… that was a mistake. For days after that he felt like his eyeballs were itching and scraping against his eyelids. _Never again_.

He splashes some water into his face, dries it off and glances at the mirror for just a moment. Makoto feels his stomach tighten and rumble, his heart beats even faster and a cold fire began to burn in his gut. His skin prickles and burns, and he starts to feel something dig into him, like needles or knives. Something in the back of his head tells him to reach up to his eyeballs and pluck them out, crush them and pour the goo into the sink.

He tears his eyes away from the mirror. _Every time_. Exhaustion washes over him as he changes into his nightclothes, then switches off the light. With each movement, his body calms, each sensation being replaced with another wave of tiredness. The last thing he does before settling into bed is to lock the door and rattle the handle to really make sure it won’t be opening.

With that, he flops underneath the covers and cocoons up, closing his eyes. Sleep descends on him, a heavy weight upon his chest. As his breath begins to slow and the tension leaves his body, he can almost hear the softest thrum of music. Something slow, and sweet, and peaceful. Strings that promise sorrow and success in equal measure. His headphones lay on the small surface behind his bead. The music drifts through his mind, interrupted by only a single thought.

_You can’t plug your ears and cover your eyes?_

_Well, I sure as hell can try._

And so, the darkness takes him. But only for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again for reading, everyone!
> 
> I know this chapter went on a little overlong, so I do apologise for that. The next few days should be able to be wrapped up in the next chapter, and then we've got the fun stuff coming!  
> All the same, hopefully you enjoyed this update. As always, your comments and reviews are welcomed and appreciated!
> 
> Love,  
> Avalon <3


	3. Restart

_“Get up.”_

_The voice was harsh, gravelled and course. The words rolled around in the speaker’s mouth, then fell lazily from their lips like slugs. Makoto pretended for a moment that he couldn’t hear them, even as they crawled their way into his ears._

_“I said, get up!”_

_Usually, if he waited long enough, the speaker would walk away. Distracted by whatever addiction was calling for their attention._

_“Get the fuck up!”_

_He felt something hard collide with his bedframe. Heard laboured breathing near his ear. Guess today was going to be different. Makoto opened his eyes, sleep blurring his vision for a few moments. When cleared, all he sees is the wall in front of him, a wall pockmarked with damp and age, “I’m up, I’m up.”_

_“Good. Get your shit together.”_

_Another move? Perhaps the others had come back at last, like they had said. Now properly awake, the acrid stench of smoke enters his nose. Makoto sits up and turns his head to look at the speaker._

_This man was stringy, like bootlaces turned to flesh. His leathery skin was grimy, and he looked far older than he was. The skin hung off him in places, making his form misshapen. Already, Makoto could see a flush to his nose and cheeks. A poorly rolled cigarette hung loosely from his purple lips. A friend of a family friend, who Makoto had been left with until the family friend was back from visiting their own family._

_It had been a few months. Makoto glanced to the window and saw orange light filtering through the holes in the rags that cover the glass. Morning. Early. “We going somewhere?” He didn’t bother to keep the Face on with this man. It wasn’t worth it._

_“You are. Ya got school. Pack up and piss off.”_

_Makoto raised an eyebrow at that. As far as he knew, the school year had started a while ago. Maybe his ‘guardian’ had finally remembered. Not that Makoto had made effort to remind him that he needed to transfer, “Oh?”_

_“Yeah. So you can stop eating_ my _food for most of the day. Fuckin’ freeloader.” It was a common complaint. The man twists his jaw, the cigarette rolling as he does so. It falls from his lips and lands on the floor. The man doesn’t even seem to notice._

_With that, he turns to leave. His shoulder knocks into the door frame as he stumbles his way back downstairs. Makoto waits to hear the couch creak as he collapses into it. Time to go. He stands, his bare foot landing on top of the cigarette. It had gone out, but it was still hot._

_That was fine. The pain just sharpened his mind, fuelled the fire in him. People wouldn’t miss this man. He would be forgotten in moments. And it would be so_ easy. _But it would also draw attention to Makoto. Would that be so bad?_

_Something to think about. Something to think_ more _about._

_He throws on the wrinkled, leather-brown uniform and makes his way to school, debating on how to play it. The other students on their way looked sullen, bored, or worried. No point in going down the cheerful route then._

_He needed to let off some steam. Makoto’s lips twitched upwards as a thought came into his head._

_The classroom was poorly maintained. The desks were bent, marked by damage and graffiti. The light fixtures were old and washed the room out with sickly pale light. His new teacher was aging and had that sort of world-weariness on his face that comes with trying to dig a grave with your bare hands for years. The source was likely the students. Some had their heads down on their desks, napping or avoiding trouble. Others lazily stared out of the window. More sat around, chatting and chortling amongst themselves. A few fiddled with their phones._

_“Everyone, we have a new student today. He’ll be joining us for the rest of the school year.” The teacher indicates Makoto with a withered hand, “Please introduce yourself.”_

_A few of the students looked up, or broke conversation to gauge him. The looks were already either hostile, or neutral. Makoto let the grin snake onto his face again, “I’m Makoto Yuki. And I already wish that most of you were dead. I look forward to the rest of the year.” He gives a half-bow and glances to the teacher, “I’ll sit over there, shall I?”_

_Makoto makes his way to a seat, ignoring the shocked look on the teacher’s face, and the daggers shooting from the other students’ eyes. All the while he grinned, even as he leant back in the chair and cast a look around the class._

_He had returned to the man’s house that day with a black eye, a bloodied lip and nose, and more than a few bruises. But his grin had never faltered. He had given just as good as he got, to each person that came at him._

_It felt pretty damn good._

_“Wake up.”_

_Huh?_

_“Wake up!"_

* * *

“Hello? Yuki? Are you in there!?”

“Wha- ah!” Makoto shoots awake and sits up; his legs tangled in the blankets cocooning him. The force of the motion carries him off the bed and he slams into the floor with a groan. _Great start to the day._

“H-Hello? I heard a bang, are you okay? I’ve been knocking for ages!” Yukari’s voice bleeds through the door. Makoto looks to the windows where a bright yellow light manages to fight past the curtains.

_Ah… damnit._ He scowls as he tries to unwrap himself from the blanket, which proves a task in itself. _Oh c’mon, I don’t move_ that _much in my sleep, surely!_ Eventually he manages to extricate himself from their clutches and tosses them angrily in a heap back onto the bed. Yukari continues to knock at the door, a little more insistently now. _Man, she’s persistent._

He takes a deep breath to settle himself and closes his eyes. Flashes of his memory from the dream remain, until he pushes them back down into himself. Time and a place for everything. In an almost subconscious movement, he passes a hand over his face, pasting on the Ordinary Face. _Keep the guise up, Makoto._

At the sound of _more_ knocking, he crosses the room, unlocks the door, and goes to open it a crack. _STOP_. _What? I’m forgetting something._ He pauses… “J-Just a moment, Miss Takeba!” _The contacts! C’mon, man!_ He quickly rushes over to the sink, keeping his eyes off the mirror. Inside the lens case float the two lenses from the previous night. With practiced ease, he inserts them onto his eyes and blinks until they get into the right place. _Ah…_ He looks down, now looking at the mirror. There’s a little pink in his cheeks from the rush, but otherwise, it’s still him. _Better_. Even wearing that pleasant little smile that seems to put people at ease.

“H-Hey? Yuki? Should I come in?”

_Forgot about her._

Makoto hurries for the door, opening it just a hair. Behind it he sees the flustered expression of his fellow student, wearing the same outfit from last night. _Though, sans gun and armband. Interesting._ The tension on her face eases as she sees him, “Oh, you’re okay. I thought you’d hurt yourself or something!” Once she says that though, her eyes widen, “Wait, have you only just got up?”

“Uh…” His smile takes on a bashful tilt, “I-I’m so sorry Miss Takeba, I guess I was more tired than I realised!”

She frowns, sighs, then shakes her head, “Well, I guess that’s normal after the night you had. Look, just… get ready quick, yeah? I don’t want us to be late on the first day.” She looks down the hall and chews on her lip nervously. _Ah, the shy and apologetic angle works when she’s mad. Good to know._

“You got it. Be right back!”

He ducks back into the room, closing the door for the time being. _She must be serious about school. Doesn’t seem like the studious type?_ Opening the closet, he seizes his new uniform and strips out of his pyjamas. Wrap up, throw on the uniform. He double checks the charge on his MP3 and his phone and sets the headphones over his ears. _Let’s see… what mood to go with?_ He scrolls through the list of tracks, stopping on one a bit bouncier and upbeat. _This’ll do_.

“Alright, I’m good!” He returns to the door and opens it. Yukari is still there, fidgeting as she waits. He exits the room and makes sure to lock the door behind him. As he turns back to the girl, he spreads his arms out wide and gives his best playful grin, “How do I look?”

She blinks and rolls her eyes, “Uh… like a student? C’mon. We can grab something to eat at the station.” Makoto notices the half-smile on her face and catches the chuckle in her throat as she turns to leave. _That’s a win._ The two of them make their way back downstairs, Makoto looking around the hall in the daylight. Unfortunately, the brighter light doesn’t help the décor much. Everything looked as though it hadn’t changed as the years passed. The carpet was faded in places where it had been worn down by people passing by. The wallpaper was slightly yellowed and curling in the edges at certain points.

His mind goes back to a barely standing bedframe and a room which stank of alcohol and smoke. _Well, it’s an improvement._ As they take the stairs to the lobby, the thoughts of just giving Yukari a light push well up within him again. Just a little _tap_. He rolls his neck and puts the thoughts aside for now, as hard as that might be. The whispers don’t ever really stop, but at least they can get quieter.

He turns the volume on his MP3 up just a couple more notches.

* * *

Makoto gazes at the façade of the large building in front of him and is legitimately impressed. _Damn, this place looks… fresh._ And it does. Gekkoukan was built out of a clean white stone, and the main building stretched extensively, both horizontally and vertically. It seemed to have some sort of Roman theme, with tall pillars dotted across the front. Other students streamed past him, some glancing his way, others hurrying into the building. A couple of them call out to Yukari, who replies with a cheery wave, and a “Hey!” Upon spotting her with a young man, they lean to each other and whisper as they pass. Makoto glances at that, catching the look two girls give Yukari, then him, then Yukari again. One waves at him and laughs, prompting the other to bat her arm and drag her off.

_Okaaaay…_ The other schools Makoto had been in had been varying degrees of quality, and steadily got worse each time he moved. That went for the buildings, the educators, and the students. “This is pretty _nice_.” He had said as much on the monorail here, after Yukari had pointed out the facility in the distance. Now, standing in front of it, it seemed so much larger than expected.

Yukari laughs at his surprise, opening a hand to the building, “Welcome to Gekkoukan, Yuki. Hopefully, you’ll enjoy it.” She nods towards the large entrance doors and begins walking towards it. Makoto snaps out of his reverie and follows her, looking this way and that. Some clusters of students were hanging out under the shade of trees which flank the walk up to the school. They seemed cheerful, healthy. _Wonder how long that’ll last…_ His mind murmurs possibilities on how to bring them down. _Time enough for that._

Yukari looks across at him, smiling easily, “It was actually built not all that long ago, and it’s got really good funding. So, consider yourself lucky.” She opens the entrance and lets him step in, following behind. The inside is just as neat as the outside, though considerably busier. Students cluster around some noticeboards just inside the building, past the lockers. A few students push to the front, see something, and then let themselves get reabsorbed into the throng. Makoto can hear groans here and there, small cheers spattered about. A girl in a yellow sleeveless sweater consoles a brown-haired boy, another pair closer to the lockers seem to be having a heated discussion. One wears a gym uniform, which seems to be the source of the short-haired girl’s consternation. Over it all, a stern looking young man with a yellow armband watches, occasionally reaching out to pull someone out from the throng.

_Pure, unfiltered, youthful chaos._ Makoto grins, taking a deep breath. _Perfect_.

He hears a sigh next to him and turns to see Yukari shaking her head. She looks over and gives him an apologetic smile, “Those’re the room postings. Everyone’s got a favourite teacher, I guess.” She shrugs, and nods away from the crowd, directing his attention to a hallway on the left, “The Faculty Office is down there. Don’t bother with the boards, just go see your homeroom teacher.” She rolls her shoulders and gives him an odd look. _Why does she look… scared?_

Makoto gives her that gentle smile he’s practiced oh so often, “Everything alright, Miss Takeba?”

“Yeah…” She looks around them both, and for the moment it seems the stream of students has slowed. She reaches out for his arm and pulls him a little closer. _Mighty forward, aren’t we?_ She leans over and whispers, “Listen, don’t tell anyone about what you saw last night, yeah?”

_Aw. Boring._ Makoto turns his head slightly to whisper back, “Miss Takeba…” He grins, though she can’t see it. It’s a wolfish grin, which is gone the moment after he speaks again, “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

And so, she steps back and huffs a breath, looking conflicted, “Well… Good, I guess.” _What would happen if I_ did _talk about it though… Young schoolgirl threatens new transfer with weapon…_ He chuckles, prompting her to shake her head again, “Alright, well, we’ll probably see each other back at the dorm. See ya later.” She waves a hand and walks off, joining another conversation.

_And then there’s just me._ He takes one more moment to take in the atmosphere before heading for the Faculty office. _Maybe my teacher will be as lively as the rest of this place._

* * *

She was not. At least, assuming that the woman in the pale pink suit is to be his homeroom teacher. She had been the first to spot him as he entered and greeted him as ‘the new student’ which, while true, wasn’t exactly friendly. _She’s not bad looking though_. She has brown hair about the same shade as Yukari’s, in a slightly similar style. _Must be a popular look._ There are also dark bags under her eyes, mostly obscured by hastily applied concealer. Generally, pretty, in that mature way.

The Faculty Office in general is in a state of general mayhem. The teacher who had spoken to him rifles through a tall stack of papers, apparently trying to find his information. In the back, a young woman in a bright orange outfit is being lectured by a scruffy-looking man in a lab coat, “-and thereby, if you analyse the patterns of the ley lines which intersect near here-” _Ah, a quack_. The woman seems to be trying to politely escape the conversation. Nearby them, an older man with a severe expression is having a debate with another man wearing a… samurai helmet. Makoto blinks. _Definitely a samurai helmet. Is… that allowed, here?_ He looks around, and the other teachers don’t seem to take any notice of it. _Unless I’ve gone so loopy I’m imagining clothes on people now._ Teleporting children, why not samurai helmets?

So, all said, the room is noisy and _distinctly_ unpleasant to be in. Makoto can feel his mood souring the longer he stands there. He sticks his hands in his pockets and clenches them into fists, trying to keep his expression neutral and patient.

“Ah!” Eventually, the pink suited teacher straightens up, holding a slim folder, “Here it is.” She opens it up and runs a finger down whatever is on the inside, “Let’s see… Makoto Yuki, yes?”

Makoto takes one of the hands out of his pocket and raises it, focusing on the sensation of his nails against his palm on the other hand, “That’s me, Teach. Pleasure to meet you!” _It is not. Please hurry this up, before I throw myself out of a window._ Or slam his head in the sliding door. Or grab the set square one of the teachers was wielding and run himself through with it. Or-

“And a pleasure to meet you, young man.” Her eyes return to the folder, “Wow, seems like you’ve been around most of the country. Does your family travel a lot?”

_That’s a little personal there, Teach._ “Uh… no. They aren’t. It’s mostly been moving to different family members or their friends.” He clenches his jaw, fighting to keep the smile on his face. _This is beginning to feel like an interrogation._

“Oh, I see. Ah, there’s a note here.” She leans in to read it, “In 1999… around… what, ten years ago? Your parents- Ah!” _Theeeeere it is._ Makoto sees an expression he’s seen far too many times. Her eyes widen, and she looks between the paper and him a few times, her mouth working to find the words. Something in him starts to boil. A flame blooms in his stomach, and bile churns in his gut. “I-I’m so sorry. I ah…” The teacher does her best to maintain a professional air, but Makoto can see the pity and embarrassment written across her face as though it were in ink pen and bold capitals. It disgusts him. “I’ve been so busy; I hadn’t had the chance to read this until now…”

Makoto lets her trail off. He consciously has to relax his hands to avoid cutting into his skin with his nails. He can feel his palms sting all the same, and it helps keep him present, despite the roaring flames in his ears, the shattering glass, the sharp, rhythmic crack of gunfire- “It’s okay, Teach. No harm done. Don’t worry about it.” It comes out with more bite than he had wanted, and the teacher winces.

“O-Of course. Um…” She closes the folder and places it back on her desk, “Well, I am Ms. Toriumi. I teach Composition here, and I’m the homeroom teacher for class 2-F which will be your classroom.” _Oh wonderful. Hopefully she’ll have enough time to extract the foot from her mouth._ Makoto tries to fix the smile on his face, with some success. “But, before that, we should head for the auditorium. The Welcoming Ceremony starts in a few minutes.”

Ms. Toriumi goes to leave, and a couple of the teachers in the room notice the time as she does and start to file out with her. _Be right behind you, Teach._ He grasps at what remains of his Ordinary Face and sets it back into position.

* * *

“If a job’s worth doing… it’s worth doing _well_. When applied to-”

_I’m going to ram my face into this chair._ Makoto eyes the chair in front of him. _I’m going to make a noble sacrifice and save everyone from this speech. But mainly save myself from this speech._ He looks up to the stage where the Principal, eyes half-closed, continues to drone on. _And he’s still going!_

Before Makoto can give himself a chair-based lobotomy, he feels a tap on his shoulder. He ignores it, and continues to try and goad the chair into coming to life and starting to commit a killing spree using it’s… legs? Makoto looks down and sees the chair is bolted to the floor. _Maybe not_.

Another tap on the shoulder. Makoto groans and turns to look over at the student behind him. An unassuming boy sits there, his uniform a size too big for him, brown hair styled in what could be called stylish about five years ago, “What?” Makoto hisses, then freezes. _Don’t lose it now._ “Sorry, can I help you?” _There we are. Nice and pleasant._

If the student was surprised by Makoto’s initial reaction, he didn’t show it, “Hey, you came to school with uh… Yukari today, right?” The way he said Yukari’s name dripped with something sweet. _Ugh._ “I saw you two walking together. You uh… looked pretty close.”

_Don’t know where he’s getting that from but…_ “Yeah, I was with her. Why?”

The student shifts in his seat, looks about to the others around him. Most are whispering amongst themselves, sneakily fiddling with their phones, or are half-listening to the Principal. “I uh, I’ve got a question.” He gives a weak smile, “Do you… know if she’s got a boyfriend?”

_Oh good, glad to see that people never change._ He’s about to provide a simple response and turn back when a thought brings him pause. What’s the best thing to blow off some steam? _Time to stir the pot…_ “Oh, Yukari? Yeah. She does.” Makoto gives the other student a gentle smile, which he tinges with just a _little_ bit of apology. _That should do the trick._

Internally, the smile only grows as the other student wilts and mutters a curse, “Man, I knew it… She’s so popular, of course she would.” He looks down to the floor, and Makoto watches as his brows begin to furrow, “Wait… How well do you know her?”

Before Makoto can drive the point home further, a teacher from another class pipes up, declaring that he can hear talking from Ms. Toriumi’s class. The student behind Makoto quickly sits back, ramrod straight. _Smooth, buddy._ Makoto glances around and notes that plenty of students from other classes are _still_ chattering to each other. _Do I sense a targeted teacher?_ Said teacher leans down the aisle and shushes them, “You’ll get me in trouble!” She doesn’t seem to have spotted who was the culprit, but the murmuring does die down for a few moments.

_Give it a couple days and that rumour should circulate nicely, if I know students._ Makoto takes a breath, feeling a little more at ease. _A little trouble ought to keep things interesting._

* * *

After the ceremony, the day had progressed as to be expected. Teachers came, delivered their lectures and introductions, then filtered out. Makoto had learnt the names of some of the odd teachers he had seen in the Faculty Office, and they were just as eccentric as their appearance. _Guess Gekkoukan hires both the best, and the weirdest._

He starts to pack up for the day, only to feel a hand clap him on the shoulder. _Wonder if it’s someone else wondering about Yukari._ He turns and looks over to see another student grinning down at where he sits. The student wears a deep blue ballcap, a navy-blue shirt and what appears to be the beginnings of a goatee on his chin. Makoto gives him a cursory up-and-down. _His stance, his smile, the look in his eyes. Oh, this guy thinks he’s the shit. Welp, start as we mean to go on._ “Sorry, can I help you?”

“Sup, dude? How’s it goin’?” The student’s grin only seems to widen as he slips a hand into his pocket and leans back in what he likely thinks is a cool pose.

“It’s going pretty good, thanks.” Makoto gives the guy his own cocksure smile, “How about you?” _Like attracts like. Might as well play the ‘chill dude’ card._

“Never better my man!” He jabs himself in the chest with a thumb, “The name’s Junpei Iori! Nice to meetcha!”

“Makoto Yuki, same to you.” _You could probably rig him up to something as a battery and get a decent charge with all this energy._ The idea tickles Makoto slightly. _Heh. Zap. Watch as he squirms and wriggles._

“Yeah, I actually transferred here back during middle school, so I figured I’d come over and say hey.” He pulls a sour face, then chuckles, “I know how rough it is being the new guy.”

“You said it. Are people already talking about me?”

Junpei gives him a wink and puts a finger over his lips, “Nothing worth worryin’ about. People’ll talk no matter what.” He rolls his shoulders and relaxes his stance, “We transfers gotta stick together, man. See, ain’t a nice guy?”

Makoto internally rolls his eyes as Junpei laughs. Already, he can work out this guy to a T. _Class clown. Showboater. Every class has one._ And this seems like it’s theirs. What’s worse is that he seems to think he can just buddy-buddy up like this. _Bet he’s secretly a huge loner._

“You never change, huh, Junpei?”

Junpei spins around with a playfully wounded gasp, “Hey now Yukari, why’ve you gotta hit me like that?” Makoto turns to see his dorm-mate approaching, her eyebrows knitted and half a smirk on her lips. Junpei places his hands over his heart, “I’m trying to be nice and you’re tearing me down!”

“Just because he has ears doesn’t mean he has to listen to you. You either think you’re just bothering someone?” Junpei pops a shrug and grins again. Yukari sighs, “So, you’re in 2-F too, huh?”

“Got it in one! You get to spend another year with da man! C’mon, tell me you aren’t happy.”

“I’m not.” She deadpans. Junpei clutches his chest and stumbles back, but his grin doesn’t shrink.

Yukari shakes her head and looks to Makoto, who still hasn’t had the chance to stand up. Her expression warms considerably, “Speaking of, looks like we’ve ended up in the same homeroom too! What are the odds, huh?”

Makoto switches out the ‘dude’ expression for something a little more teasing. His eyes narrow, his lips smirk, “Must be fate, don’t you think?” _Give the people something to talk about._

Yukari blinks and lets out a laugh, “Fate? Yeah, right. Still, it’s a weird coincidence.”

Apparently recovered from Yukari’s cold words, Junpei leans between them, breaking line of sight, “Uh, hello? Have you forgotten I’m here too?”

“Wish I could, Junpei.” Yukari narrows her eyes at him, though it doesn’t seem particularly antagonistic. _They do seem chummy… wonder if there’s any history there._

“But, that said, I’ve been hearing some rumours.” Junpei leans back and puts his chin in his palm, treating them both to a sly look, “A little birdy told me that you two came to school together this morning. What’s up with that, huh? Come on, gimme the dirt!”

_Wow that circulated faster than expected. Well, lets see how Yukari handles this._ Makoto turns to look at the girl, who is looking at him with some sort of expectation of support. _Nope, you’re on your own for this one, pinky._

“Wait, what?” She looks back to Junpei, her skin turning just a little pinker. _Hey, the nickname works even better now!_ “What are you going on about? We just live in the same dorm!”

Junpei’s eyebrows climb further up his forehead, “Oh, _really?_ That sounds… convenient.” He leans towards Yukari, wiggling his eyebrows in a wave at her.

“Ugh, shut up! It’s nothing! I just showed him how to get here.” She crosses her arms and huffs, giving the other students left in the classroom a sweeping glare as though they are the people spreading the rumour. “Why’re people even talking about it? Now you’ve got me worried…”

Surprisingly, Junpei softens the interrogation somewhat and pats the air placatingly, “Woah, Yukari, sorry. Don’t worry about it, seriously.”

Yukari gives him a half-smile, which slips off into a scowl as she turns to Makoto. _Uh oh._ She squints at him and puts her hands on the top of his desk to lean over it towards him. _Trapped!_ “You haven’t been saying anything to anyone about…” She glances at Junpei, who whistles to himself, the picture of innocence and privacy, “You-know-what, have you?” Her brown eyes swivel back to Makoto, and he can feel them boring into him.

_Damn, she can put some fire behind her. Nice…_ “W-Woah, Miss Takeba, I haven’t said a word!” He raises his hands in mock surrender and gives a nervous laugh. “Cross my heart, hope to die!” _At least that’s true._

She glares for just a little longer, then sighs and straightens up, a smile reforming on her lips, “Good. Just… Don’t say _anything_ about last night, okay?”

The whistling stops, as Junpei looks over at them, “Woah. L-Last night…?”

“Oh my god, it’s not what you think!” Yukari groans and runs a hand through her fringe, rubbing at her scalp, “Look, we just met yesterday, and there’s _nothing_ between us.”

_Ouch, Yukari. Why not just stab me in the neck? Still… I see that blush._ Junpei winces and pats Makoto on the shoulder, commiserating his injured comrade. Yukari huffs again, “I gotta go take care of something for the archery club. Don’t go around spreading any rumours, okay?” The end of the sentence is delivered with a sharp point at Junpei. With that, Yukari flounces out of the room.

“Archery club?” _That sounds… useful._ An image of Makoto looking down the length of an archery range floats into his mind. The business end of arrows nocked in bows are pointing at him, and he watches as they sail towards him, the sun glinting off the sharp edges…

“Man, who cares about any of that? No-one listens to rumours anyway!” Junpei shakes his head, his words snapping Makoto back to the present, “You shoulda heard some of the ones that were spread about me!”

“Were they that bad?” Makoto arches a brow.

Junpei shrugs, “Nah, not all that bad really. Y’know, baby stuff. Like I’d committed a crime and was on the run, stuff like that.” A grin sneaks onto his face, “People treated me like some kinda badass!”

“Wow, must have been a big rumour for them to think that about you.” _Oops. Didn’t mean to say it like that._

To his credit, Junpei takes it in stride, “Don’t tell me you’re gonna start attacking me too!” He laughs and steps away, letting Makoto _finally_ get out of his seat, “And to think I was gonna treat you to a meal.”

_Hello, free food!_ “Guess I better apologise then?”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I’m such a nice guy, I’ve already moved on. C’mon, man, let’s go.” He gestures for Makoto to follow him, then rubs his hands together, “It’s your first day and people are already spreading your name around! It’s gonna be a fun year, I can feel it!” He punches the air as he walks, chuckling to himself.

_Sure hope so, Junpei. But who knows, I might not see the end of it._ Makoto looks around the room, watching the other students chat and get ready to leave. Clusters of friends, discussing the other students, how the day went. All so mundane. _I can only dream._

* * *

“And then they said I must’ve robbed the train on the way there! Like, what would even be the point?” Junpei laughs and slaps the vinyl-topped table between them, which bears the image of a smiling duck holding its wing out in a thumbs-up motion. The duck has teeth. _There are so many things wrong with this picture. I think I might just hate it._

Once more, Makoto finds himself in a store named ‘Wild-Duck Burger.’ Though, this time it wasn’t trespassing. _Wait, is it trespassing if no-one can know you’re there?_ Though this branch isn’t the same he had _technically_ broken into the other night. Seems they were a popular enough chain to have a few different stores around the island. As with larger companies, it seemed as though they had simply copied the other store and cloned it, plopping it onto a different plot of land.

It does look different outside of Makoto’s hidden hour, at least. The yellow and orange pop in the sunlight and adults, families and students lounge in the booths or queue to collect to-go orders. Conversation fills the room just as much as the scent of grease, salt, and meat. Somewhere in the corner of the room, a human-sized duck mascot stands, idling and waving at customers. _Is it a person, or an animatronic?_ He watches for a while and spots the duck slump slightly when it thinks people aren’t looking. _Person. Booooring._

Junpei had ordered him a meal, which the menu promised would be ‘succulent, juicy and filling!’ It seemed to be a pretty standard burger, fries, and drink combo. But, that said, it was still decent. _Free food always tastes better._ He grins, realising this is his second time eating with the franchise and he still hadn’t paid for anything. Lifting the burger, he takes another chomp as Junpei continues to ramble on. The meat was a little over-seasoned and a lot oily but did sate his appetite.

“So, why’d you move here anyway, Yuki?” Junpei doesn’t seem to have noticed Makoto zoning out. Makoto chews a little more, then swallows. “You know, I came here from a little further inland, so it’s a bit weird having the coast so close, don’t you think?”

_How much to tell him?_ “Eh, I moved ‘cos of some family stuff. You know how it is.” Junpei leans back in his seat and nods at that, chewing on a fry. _True, but basically tells him nothing._ “As for being near the coast… I dunno, it’s not that weird for me. I’m used to it.” _Since I lived here, but he doesn’t need to know that._

“Oh yeah? Bet you came from some sort of fishing village or something, huh?” His classmate grins, “Ain’t Port Island cool? Everything’s all shiny and new, the weather’s always pretty good. We’re in the prime of our youth, man!”

Makoto shrugs, “It’s nice enough. I didn’t expect the school to be so big.”

“Right? It’s _huge_ , dude! Funny story, I actually got lost on like, my first week.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah man, I spent an hour wandering around the halls trying to find my classroom.” He chuckles at the memory, tapping a finger to his chin, “One of the student council hunted me down in the end, basically dragged me to the right place.” He snaps his fingers, then points one at Makoto, “Speakin’ of… That dorm you stay at….”

_Oh boy, this ought to be interesting._ “What about it?”

“Yukari’s mentioned that one our senpai stays there too. Mitsuru Kirijo? Have you met her?”

“Miss Kirijo? Sure, she was one of the people that welcomed me.”

Junpei leans across the table and looks about conspiratorially. His grin takes on a suggestive tilt, “What d’you think?”

Makoto frowns and makes a show of thinking. _What_ do _I think? She’s pretty hot, but also…_ He recalls the icy glare she shot at Yukari the night of his arrival. _Pretty scary. Which might actually work in her favour._ He says as much to Junpei, who looks surprised by his response.

“Ah, so _that’s_ what you’re into. Fair enough man, I don’t judge.” He chuckles, reaching out to sip his drink, “She’s a reaaaal ice queen, that’s for sure. Rumour has it she’s got people fallin’ for her left and right.” He takes a long sip and lets out an _ah_ as he finishes, “Man that’s refreshing! But yeah, guess that’s what you get when you’re an heir or whatever.”

_Huh?_ “An heir?”

“Yeah man, the Kirijo group?” Junpei blinks, lips around the straw of his cup again. “What, you’ve _never_ heard of them? There’s no way. They funded to build the school and everything!”

_Ohhhh. Oh._ Makoto slaps himself on the forehead. _How didn’t I realise!?_ Of course, he knew of the Kirijo group. Their products were always leading the tech and medical industries, and it’s said their fashion lines and agricultural sector were just as powerful. _Mitsuru_ Kirijo _. How’d I miss it?_

Across the table, Junpei snickers at him, apparently echoing his thoughts, “Wow, dude. How long did it take you?”

“Shove it.”

Junpei laughs, “Alright, alright, I guess we’re even for earlier now.” His grin doesn’t change all the same, “Still, fortune _and_ looks? She’s pretty much set for life, right?”

_Money can’t stop you from dying, Junpei._ “I guess.” He ruffles the back of his hair, pulling out some knots, “Alright, since you’re asking, what do _you_ think of her?” As he talks, Makoto pops off the top of his milkshake and starts to dunk his fries into it.

The question brings Junpei pause and he scratches at his goatee, “Kirijo-senpai? Eh, I dunno. She’s good-looking, yeah.” Makoto tilts his head at the response. _You were just going on about everything she has. Unless you’ve got your eye on someone else._ “What?”

“Sounds like someone’s on your mind, eh, Junpei? Maybe someone wearing a pink sweater?”

“What, Yukari?” He shakes his head, lifting his ballcap a little, “Nah man, we’ve just known each other for a while. It’d be weird to date her, y’know?” Junpei spreads his arms out, “Let all the ladies in the world know, Junpei Iori is an available man!”

Makoto lets out a legitimate laugh, which he cuts short. Confusion makes its way past the mask for just a moment. _That was… weird._ He wipes it away and nods at Junpei, “I’ll be sure to let them know. I’ll let Miss Takeba and Miss Kirijo know what you said too.”

Junpei freezes, his arms still spread wide, “D-Dude. Not cool.” He relaxes, seeing Makoto’s malicious grin soften, “Also, the hell are you doing?”

Makoto follows Junpei’s eyes, which are fixed on Makoto’s fry being swirled in his shake, “What? It’s good.” He withdraws the fry and chomps down on it, enjoying the juxtaposition of salty and sweet.

His classmate just shakes his head in some mixture of confusion and amusement, “I dunno man, that just looks weird.”

“Work on your palate, you’re missing out.” He chews another fry or two, just to drive the point home. _Y’know, he seems a decent enough guy, really. Trusting. That could be useful. Just need to get him on my side._

It’s like a game of chess except the more people he can control, the more he can push them into danger, or have them lead him into it. Step by inevitable step. It just takes going up against a force clever or powerful enough to crush each and every one of his pawns. And if not, he can just get them crushed himself. Junpei could ‘accidentally’ be served a poisoned meal or could be made to heroically dive between Makoto and a savage attacker. The attacker would step over Junpei’s form, and Makoto would only watch as the life leaves him, even as the blade descends on himself.

First things first… “You know what, Iori… You’re a pretty cool guy.”

Junpei’s grin grows even wider, “Hey c’mon man. I’m just doing what everyone else would do.” He takes a bite out of his burger and winks at Makoto, “Not that I’m sayin’ you’re wrong. You’re pretty cool yourself, dude.”

_Now we’re getting somewhere._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I had _intended_ to have Chapter 3 lead us right up to the Full Moon but uh...  
> That didn't quite work out. Oopsies!  
> It'll probably be another chapter or two, but hopefully you don't mind seeing Makoto get through the day and hang out with a real bro-to-be.  
> Next chapter we'll see a meeting between Makoto and Ikutsuki, and get a look at the Velvet Room! We might even get to the Full Moon!  
> Perhaps. Hope you don't mind the slower pace at the beginning here.  
> Either way, looking forward to seeing you there! Thanks again for reading!
> 
> Love,  
> Avalon <3


	4. Sides and Coins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kept you waiting, huh?
> 
> Timely references aside, sorry for the long wait on this one, everyone! I'll go a little more into it in the post-notes, but otherwise, be sure to enjoy!  
> We've got some character moments in here, nothing too meaty, but hopefully worth the wait!

The meal with Junpei had left Makoto exhausted. The guy’s nice and all, but the amount of _energy_ coming off him. _I might_ call _it an early night._ As much as Makoto wants to feel the dense atmosphere of his hidden hour cling to him, sleep is just that little bit more alluring. _Plus, it’s not the same if I can’t go outside. Gonna have to find a way around this curfew…_

“Welcome back.”

Makoto looks up as he steps into the dorm lobby and spies Mitsuru sitting prim and upright on one of the couches. _Y’know, those are meant for lounging._ She has a small book in her hand. The cover is unadorned, save for silver lettering on the spine. The senior looks over to him and smiles that same detached smile. _I think that’s the only way she knows how to smile_. “Hey there, Miss Kirijo. I hope I’m not too late?”

“Not at all,” she replies coolly, “Curfew is still a couple of hours away.” _Thanks for reminding me, senpai._ “Besides, I’m sure you’ve had a long day. How did you find Gekkoukan?”

“You know… it’s impressive. The faculty seem competent. I think I’m going to learn a lot.” Makoto cringes at the well of pride on Mitsuru’s face, though it doesn’t last all that long. _Yeah, I know her angle. Study serious, probably kisses the ground the teachers walk on._

Mitsuru nods at him and crosses her legs as her eyes return to the book momentarily. Makoto tries to sneak a look at the name but can’t quite make it out. He also tries _not_ to sneak a look at his senpai’s legs, with an equal amount of success, “Mm, well that’s good to hear. Understand, the curriculum is advanced, but I’m sure that you will be able to handle it.” Deep red eyes leave the page again, and her expression seems warmer now, “That said, if you are ever in need, please reach out to the Student Council. We will always be happy to assist.”

 _Oh yeah, Junpei did bring her up when talking about the Student Council._ In his experience, council members fell into three categories. ‘Lazy students who need something on their resume,’ ‘power hungry tyrants,’ or ‘absolute suck up to authority.’ Oddly enough, Mitsuru doesn’t seem like any of those. Well, perhaps a _tinge_ of the second and third one, but she gives off enough authority of her own. “You’re on the Student Council, senpai? That’s admirable!” _I can blow wind up someone with the best of them._

“Thank you, Yuki. I actually plan to run for President in the coming year.” She tosses her hair a little at that, “I would like to think that I can support the student populace in their endeavours.”

Makoto gives her a warm, friendly smile, “Well, I can tell you that you’ve got my vote, Miss Kirijo.”

Mitsuru chuckles and waves her free hand at him, “I do appreciate it, but take the time to look at my opposition. You will find them all competent and respectable. I only ask you vote for who you believe is the right fit.”

 _How very humble of you._ “Aw, but who could be a better fit than you? After all, your family helped build the school in the first place!” Makoto doesn’t expect her reaction to be as frosty as it is. The scarlette’s shoulders slump a touch and she lets out a quiet sigh. She looks away from him, towards the floor. _Oops. Think I might’ve pushed in the wrong way._

She shakes her head, “I understand many students may be thinking that way. Personally, I would rather they vote on our value as leaders rather than our… bloodlines.” The book drops somewhat, allowing Makoto to make out more of her expression. Not quite ashamed, but certainly reflective.

 _Huh… not a fan of her own family? Maybe… Still, gotta try and recover this somehow!_ “Oh uh… sorry, senpai. I didn’t mean to make you upset.” _A little lie won’t hurt._ “I’ve actually heard a few people talking about the elections. They all were talking about how smart you are, and how inspired you make them feel.”

Mitsuru raises her head to look at him. She squints for a short second in suspicion, but her pale skin colours just a touch, “I-Is that so? Well… thank you for letting me know, Yuki.” She clears her throat and regains her posture. _Might have helped._ “I don’t mean to keep you, Yuki. I imagine you’re quite tired.”

“It’s alright, Miss Kirijo. It’s nice talking to you.” He lets just a _smidge_ of bashfulness slip into his look. _Question is, should I go for meeker, or more confident? Maybe the latter since she’s got a good bit of presence._ Beneath his mask, a grin tugs at his lips. _This might require some thought. A challenge._ How very… fun.

The colour that had tinted Mitsuru’s cheeks has faded, but she nods at him, “And the same to you, Yuki.” She returns to her book, her eyes chasing the words across the page. _Seems the conversation is over._

Alas, curiosity buzzes in Makoto’s mind. _Knowledge is power, after all._ The kind of media people enjoy is valuable information, both as a talking point and a point of reference for their personality. A memory comes back to Makoto, where he had been able to force a bond with one of his bullies based around a stupid kid’s show they watched. It had taken a few months of gifts, messages, and conversation away from his cronies to bring them around.

Eventually, he managed to get them to apologise to him, and even go so far as to condemn and insult his former friends. Makoto of course later went to said friends and revealed the information to them with a phone recording. It was oh so easy to trick people once they think they’ve been redeemed in your eyes. All it took after that was an invite to a comfortably quiet location and Makoto was able to watch his ‘friend’ get beaten to a bloody pulp. Even better was the look of betrayal and anguish on their face, directed at both Makoto and their old friends. A small, quiet part of him despaired at the expression. A much louder part delighted in it.

Of course, the attackers later turned on Makoto once they had ensured their old ally wouldn’t be moving any time soon. But the experience had been _entirely_ worth it.

He leans forward and squints to make out the lettering, _Sen-_ Mitsuru’s fingers shift on the spine, blocking the rest. _Tch_. He tilts his head and leans a little more. _Sense an-_ Again, another shift. _Oh, come on!_ He scowls, but freezes when he hears a soft, “Ahem.”

His eyes flick up to meet Mitsuru’s, who is staring at him with a blend of confusion and amusement, “Oh uh… Hello?”

“Can I help you at all, Yuki?” A little sliver of ice works its way into the look, and Makoto can’t pull his eyes away. The ice flickers along his skin, rising goosebumps on his forearms.

“I um… I…” _Get it together!_ He scrambles to make sure that Ordinary Face holds strong, “I was just wondering… what you were reading?”

“Ah.” Mitsuru blinks and turns the book to look at the spine, “So that’s what you were looking at.” Her cheeks colour again, “It’s a… classic story. It’s rather engaging if you must know.” She moves her hand so that he can read the spine.

 _Sense and Sensibility?_ Makoto had read a few books in his time, but the name didn’t ring a bell. “What’s it about?”

Colour seeps into Mitsuru’s cheeks, and she shifts on the couch. _Is she… uncomfortable? That’s new._ “N-Nothing important, really. A simple conflict. Ah…” She glances towards the stairs, and back to Makoto, “Apologies, but I’m sure you are tired. I do not wish to be responsible for you not getting enough rest.” She again turns to the book, her fringe hiding her eyes.

 _Guess that’s as much as I’m going to get out of her. Still, that was an interesting reaction. Note to self, look up that book at some point._ He gives her a nod, “I appreciate it, Miss Kirijo. I’ll head to bed now.” He bows in her direction, and then makes his way to his room. With his face turned away, a mischievous smile breaks through the mask. _Oh, she is fun._

* * *

The first thing Makoto does after stepping back into his room is lock the door behind him. Ordinary Face falls away, leaving his mouth downturned, his eyes tired and an air of grumpiness around him. Fortunately, none were around to have the pleasure of his company, so it was just him and himself. “What a day…”

He takes the time to change into his pyjamas, a loose top and pair of bottoms which are soft to the touch, with a red check pattern on a cream background. One of his favourites, really. Next come the lenses, after which he drapes a hand towel over the mirror to cover it up. _Much easier_. He washes his face, dries it, then turns back to the room.

 _Work to be done. Ugh._ Over the next hour, he unpacks his boxes, hanging his clothes in the closet and adding a few meagre decorations to the room. His calendar is hung on the wall behind his bed, flipped to the appropriate month. Underneath that is a small houseplant in a clay pot, long dead. A couple of throw pillows are set on the bed, splashes of colour here and there. They are tattered and worn, but he’s kept them safe enough over the years. A small plush toy of a lamb is set next the pillow he lays his head on. He can’t remember where he got it, but it always seemed important.

Lastly, he crosses the room and opens the curtains on one of the windows, then opens the window itself and leans his head out. _Hm…_ While only on the second floor, the drop is decent. He looks back to the desk, and the slim rope lying atop it. _Not long enough… I’ll have to get more._ Plus, even if he did drop without one, there’d be no way to get back into the building without going back through the main entrance.

 _Still, a jump without a rope might be just as good an idea as any._ He inspects the drop a little more and starts to feel the sparks of a fire within him. Would it do the job? Maybe if he landed on his head. A broken neck or a crushed skull and then blessed darkness. Makoto frowns and turns his head to look up to the top of the building. _Roof would be better…_ He sighs, stepping away from the window. _A fall from here has a high chance of not killing me._ Makoto gives a wry laugh, _Pretty hard to die when you’re paralysed._ At that thought, the sparks die out, leaving him as empty and cold as usual.

Makoto goes to close the curtains, but then pauses. _Something’s not right._ A whisper in the back of his head, spoken in lilting melody. Something had caught his eye as he looked out of the window. What was it? He presses his face to the glass and scans around. _There._ He had missed it originally since his focus was on the ground immediately beneath his window. But out on the street, underneath one of the streetlights stands a figure. Their head is rocked back, and they gaze at the yellowed light casting down on them. Thanks to that light Makoto can see that their eyes are bugged and their mouth slack and open, as though the figure was trying to swallow the glow. A line of spittle shines on their cheek, running down their chin.

 _Addict. Tch._ He watches the figure for a little longer. They sway ever so slightly with each breath. Their arms dangle from their torso, as though they were long dislocated. In fact, their whole body looks as though a string is attached to their forehead, and it being pulled from somewhere above is the only thing keeping them upright. _Now that’s just sad._ Makoto toys with the idea of throwing something at them or going back downstairs and mentioning it to Mitsuru. But, seeing as neither would likely achieve much, he draws the curtains closed and puts it out of his mind.

As he steps away, his vision passes over the notebook on his desk, and Makoto pauses. _Suppose I better write something at least_. Without sitting, he opens the notebook to the next blank page and seizes a chewed biro from a pen organiser. The pen touches paper, and it takes him only a few moments to start writing. It is a short entry, compared to the events of his day. Simple bullet points. Easy to categorise.

One of his therapists had suggested this as some sort of ‘recovery tool.’ He had done it for so long that the habit just stuck. But he had been advised to write in the same way that he thinks. That was advice he ignores. His entries were always stark and to the point. He was meant to ‘let his emotions flow from him, to the pen, and to the page.’ _Whatever the hell that means._ For a long time, the book had simply been a basic record of events and a reminder of the unhealthy shifting of his mind.

Makoto looks to the digital clock sitting on top of his television. Time marches on, and midnight is on the approach. _I could stay up and actually enjoy some of it…_ But the extra hour of sleep is far too tempting. He closes the notebook and sets the pen on top of it. He glances at the roman numeral on the front of the book. _So many already. I’m going to need a library for them eventually._

He flops onto his bed. _Cocoon mode… engage!_ He rolls until he is sufficiently burrito’d and closes his eyes. _Man, long day._ That dream this morning, the dumb teacher, the dumb _speech_. Makoto grumbles at the thought. Still, getting a free meal from Junpei was nice, even if the guy seems like something of a tool. _Perhaps literally._ He yawns and puts the thought aside. He’s a fun guy but really, what could he use Junpei for other than a meat-shield? As he mulls over possibilities, Makoto finds his thoughts start to elude him, each one becoming more fragmented and faded than the last. Before too long, he falls into a deep and dreamless sleep, even as the room around him shifts to shades of gloomy forest green as the Dark Hour descends upon him.

* * *

Downstairs, in the lobby, Mitsuru sits on the couch, her nose still in the book. She’s got herself propped up on an elbow, her legs up on the couch next to her. One hand cups her cheek, the other holds the book “And what will you do now, Elinor…?” She murmurs to herself, eyes flicking over the words hungrily.

Of course, she would ordinarily chase more academic pursuits and literature. But this had been mentioned as a ‘must-read for young ladies’ by one of the Kirijo maids. Taking the recommendation, Mitsuru acquired herself a copy and soon found herself lost to the scandalously romantic twists within the story. Makoto arriving earlier on surprised her, but thankfully it seemed as though he didn’t recognise the title of the book. It wouldn’t do for her junior to start getting ideas in their head about what kind of media she enjoys.

“Comfy, Mitsuru?”

Mitsuru turns to see a young, silver-haired man in a red cardigan-vest approaching her from the stairs. He’s got an amused smirk on his face, though it doesn’t seem particularly poorly intended. The crimsonette smoothly returns to her more ‘proper’ seating position, and crosses her legs, “Good evening, Akihiko. Is there something you need?”

The boy nods at the front door and pulls his hands out of his pockets. Rather than his usual leather gloves, his hands are clad in tight wraps, with studs by the knuckles, which he taps together, “Not much, I was just going to head out and get some training in.” He grins and rolls his shoulders, throwing a few test punches at the air, “I’ve been stayin’ inside and studying for the last few Dark Hours, and nothing’s happened. I don’t want to go stale.”

Mitsuru sighs and shakes her head, but a dry smile sits on her lips. She knows well how restless Akihiko can get without a chance to test himself, “Are you really not content to wait for trouble to find you? Must you charge in to find it yourself?”

“You know as much as I do that it’s _way_ more fun to do it that way.” He gives her a cocksure grin, “It’d be boring just to wait around, right?” He crosses his arms, stretching them out and tests a few more punches, “Besides, I haven’t been able to properly put some work in since we stopped going to Tartarus.”

The two of them fall quiet at that. Akihiko’s expression clouds with pensiveness as he continues his stretching. Mitsuru looks away and lets out a small sigh. _I know, Akihiko._ The two of them make a formidable team in combat, but their third member had the raw power and strength to support them. _Without him, Tartarus would likely be the end of us both. If anything were to happen, who knows what would become of us. It is not worth the risk._ She says none of this aloud since they both share that knowledge already, and it doesn’t need to be reinstated. When the decision was first made, Akihiko put up some fight, but he came around before long. He always does.

Glancing back to Akihiko, Mitsuru watches his face twist in varying expressions of discomfort, and he stares directly at the door. _Perhaps it would be best to move along._ She clears her throat and he blinks, looking to her expectantly, “Well, in any case, please do be careful. You should know that your fists can’t solve every problem.”

Akihiko meets her attempt at an easy smile with an equally convincing smile of his own, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, “You might have a point, but it doesn’t hurt to try.”

Her smile becomes more honest as Mitsuru rolls her eyes at him, “Honestly. If anything, a failed attempt would likely bring you plenty of pain. Remember, any additional medicines you may need will come out of your own pocket.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles and waves her off, and she looks down at the book in her hands for a few seconds. Sensing that he hasn’t moved, Mitsuru looks back up to see Akihiko standing in place, giving her an odd look. _He seems… unsure?_

She patiently waits for him to speak, an eyebrow slowly creeping upwards as she watches Akihiko struggle to find the words. Finally, he groans and looks away, scratching at the back of his head, “Look, Mitsuru. Are you… doing alright? You’ve seemed sort of… tired lately.”

The eyebrow drops back into place. _Ah. I suppose if anyone would be able to tell, it would be him._ She considers blowing him off with a simple ‘I’m fine’, knowing full well that he would accept the answer. Akihiko knows when to push a point, and when to relent. Usually.

But, that said, she knows that he would be able to tell that he was lying to him. _And he doesn’t deserve that. It isn’t as though I have many other people to confide in…_ A familiar pang of loneliness pokes at her, but she shoves it down into its box and sits on top of it. With her free hand, she rubs at the bridge of her nose and nods slowly, “Is it really so obvious?”

“Probably not. I just had an instinct.” The boy shrugs.

 _Ah, Akihiko’s ever reliable gut instinct._ She only really lets her guard down while at the dorm. At home, she needs to be the refined and elegant heiress she is expected to be. At school, she must be the well-educated and sharp leader, a source of inspiration for the other students. _Tiring is the right word._ As such, her dorm-mates would likely be the only ones to have the chance to notice her weariness.

To his credit, Akihiko simply waits for her to speak. He does fidget a touch, and fiddles with the threads on his wraps, but doesn’t prompt her. Eventually, she speaks up, “I… have rather a lot on my plate. There were the arrangements for the transfer, and though the Chairman took care of most of it, making sure his items arrived safely and his room and travel were prepared was taxing.” _Perhaps I am too used to being driven to places…_ Public transport is, if anything, a nightmare.

“And then of course, I must prepare for the Student Council elections. The position of President is an important one, and I am assured it would be good for my… future success. But the preparation of speeches, securing votes, laying out plans for the school. While I would only be President for a year, it is rather involved. I don’t want to let our fellow students down.”

Akihiko nods, then approaches and sits down on the couch next to her, “Ah come on, Mitsuru. You’ve got it in the bag.”

She gives him an appreciative look, then takes a breath. _Should I stop here?_ But she doesn’t seem to be able to. The chance to _talk_ is something she hadn’t realised she was missing, “On top of that, my father is pushing me to continue my studies in order to eventually take over the business after his retirement.”

“Well that’s a while away right? He’s still a pretty young guy.”

“Certainly, but there’s so much to learn, he says that it would be best for me to start now.” She knows Akihiko can’t empathise, but he seems attentive all the same. Despite her desire to get it all out, the next subject is one that brings her pause for a few moments. _I’ve come this far._ “And then there’s Takeba.”

Akihiko winces, but he tries to cover it up, “Yukari? Has she done something?”

“No, no.” Mitsuru closes her eyes and shakes her head, her shoulders drooping a touch, “I’ve just noticed she’s being colder with me as of late. I worry that I’ve done something to distress her further.”

A frown falls on Akihiko’s face, and he glances towards the stairs, “You want me to talk to her?” Mitsuru is sure he doesn’t mean it to be, but it does rather sound like a threat. _I suppose the knuckle wraps do not help._

“I… don’t believe that will be necessary. But thank you, Akihiko.” She shifts in place, and closes her book, “In truth, I do not know if I can blame her. I understand she wishes to know more about her father but… I cannot give her information I do not have. And yet she seems to think I am hiding it from her.

“I just wish that we could be a little closer.” She frowns at that, not having wanted to speak the words, “God, I sound like such a child, ignore me.” An image comes to her mind of a young, red-haired child sitting in her bed, crying as green light streams into her window. That knot of loneliness tightens a bit more. She stamps on the box and starts to tie it closed with rope.

Akihiko chuckles and pats her shoulder, “I’d never. We all live here together, so it makes sense that you’d want to have a better relationship. We’re part of the same team after all. Besides, you know you can be a little…” He trails off, the words freezing in his throat at Mitsuru’s icy glare.

“No, Sanada, please do go on.”

“…Intimidating?” He leans away from her and squeezes his eyes shut, expecting a sharp, rapier-like jab. Mitsuru is almost amused by the reaction. _I’ve been told as much in the past…_ She sighs, nodding in response. Akihiko opens one of his eyes when he realises that execution has not come for him this day.

Mitsuru deflates somewhat, her eyes turning downwards to the closed book in her lap. _I really don’t mean to be. But what am I meant to do to bridge that gap?_

Seemingly recognising her discomfort, Akihiko takes his turn to circle back the conversation and change the subject, “So uh… how’s the new kid? I’ve not run into him yet, but I’ve heard him and Yukari talking in the hall.”

Mitsuru takes the offered opportunity and thinks on the answer. _Surprisingly cheerful, given the circumstances. Perhaps oddly so, though it isn’t unwelcome._ “He seems… normal, outside of the circumstances of his arrival. Pleasant, cheery. He _does_ seem to get along with Takeba.” She thinks back to their earlier conversation, “The first day might have been draining for him.” _Not that he let it show. Will anything bring his mood down?_

“That so? Huh.” Akihiko scratches at his ear, a half-frown on his lips, “Given the stuff in that file you gave me, I was expecting… I don’t know, some sort of sad sack. Or a delinquent.”

 _Crassly put, but… not inaccurate to my own expectations._ She says as much, but does add, “It is not an unpleasant surprise, at least.”

“Does he have… you know, the potential?”

“It seems so.” Mitsuru fills him in on Makoto’s mid-Dark Hour arrival, “At the very least, he can remain conscious. And surprisingly cognisant no less. However, as to anything further… the Chairman will be here tomorrow to confirm.”

Akihiko nods once more, pats her shoulder again and stands. While most would consider him a… headstrong individual, ( _Delicately put_ ,) Mitsuru knows well that Akihiko used his head far more than would be expected. He had always been attentive and loyal, though he was often more reckless in combat. But Mitsuru knows that she can trust him.

He heads over for the door and opens it up, but turns to her before he steps outside, “Hey, you want to come with? A bit of training could wear you out, get you some better sleep.”

 _Ah, the topic always comes back to practice._ “Thank you, Akihiko, but I think it would be unfair to leave Takeba to protect the dorm on her own. Besides, I imagine she has already gone to bed since it was her first day back as well.”

Akihiko nods slowly, as a smirk tugs at his lips. He nods at the book in her lap, “Ah, no need to make excuses. You probably just want to finish that without me bothering you.”

Mitsuru laughs and waves him away before picking the book back up. Her friend saunters out, rolling his shoulders. The door closes behind him, and Mitsuru can hear him start to run until the sound fades into the distance. She is left alone once more. “Keep safe, Akihiko.” She returns to her page and begins to find her place, letting the story slip around her once again.

* * *

“C’mon, is it _that_ hard to write out good directions?” Makoto growls, glaring daggers at a scrap piece of paper between his fingers. The school day had been uneventful and dull. More of his fellow students sharing gossip. He had caught stories about a cursed bathroom on the second floor, a girl disappearing from school, a few ends of conversations mentioning him and Yukari. _At least that should get around to her before too much longer_.

Once the day had ended, Makoto had planned to take a trip over to the Paulownia Mall to pick up some supplies. Junpei had mentioned it in passing on the previous day, but Makoto had been so caught up in responding to Junpei’s _unending prattling_ that he hadn’t caught where it was.

His… _Friend? No, way too soon to say that. Like I need one of those._ Before a small part of him can mutter its disagreement, Makoto quickly lets the thought continue. _Associate? Yeah._ His associate had already left class, saying something about wanting to get home quickly. With no other recourse, Makoto had to paste on the ‘shy classmate’ bit, swallow his distaste, and ask another student in the class how to get to the mall.

In a bout of what might have been considered kindness, the other student had taken the time to write down precise instructions on how to get to the mall from the school, shortcuts included. Apparently, it wasn’t that far away at all, so Makoto shouldn’t have been able to miss it. _And yet, directions aren’t all that helpful when your handwriting is garbage._ He scowls at the paper and the hastily scribbled shapes atop it. They were probably _meant_ to be words but were more like vague glyphs from an ancient language.

Makoto did his best to follow the instructions, he really did. It had gone well for some time, as he was tailing a small river of students making their way there. Unfortunately, a wrong turn or two slowly resulted in fewer and fewer people around him, until it was just himself making his way through back alleys and dark corners.

While Port Island gleamed on the outside, its depths were considerably less maintained. As he progressed, the scent of urine, booze and filth had grown stronger, and Makoto became less sure he was going the right way. _But isn’t discovery so much more exciting?_ He looks about the stained brickwork around him and grins. _There could be someone around the next corner waiting to mug me, then leave me for dead._

He can see it now: Some unshaven, grime covered nobody would jump out and grab him by the neck. Makoto could almost smell the heady scent of liquor on their breath as the attacker breathed his demands. Makoto could feel something sharp poking against his stomach. He stops where he is, letting the sensation roll over him. Again and again the attacker would make their demands, and Makoto would hang limp. _Or maybe not?_ No, that’s right, he would antagonise the attacker. _Go on, what are you going to do? Trash. Filth. Empty-bodied garbage. You don’t have the courage._ Incensed, the attacker would ram the steel into Makoto’s belly. He could feel his skin burn and prickle, both ice-cold and flaming hot as the foreign object tore his flesh apart. Blood would spill out and the attacker would stumble back, blaming Makoto. The last thing Makoto would see would be the attacker rifling through his pockets before retreating. _What would my dorm-mates think? Would they cry?_ Of course not. They wouldn’t even bear a thought for you any longer than a week. _I would become just another number on a page. Another headline. Just like my-_

“And what might bring _you_ here?”

Makoto blinks, a voice snapping him back to reality. A smooth, but edged voice. Like a sword overused to have nicks along the blade. He looks around, trying to regather his bearings. It seems his body had started moving again and had led him to a more open space behind the buildings. Behind him is one alleyway, with a few more ahead and to his sides that lead into or out of this space.

The space itself is unremarkable. A stagnant pool of liquid which seems to have a rainbow sheen as what little light that makes its way into the space passes over it. A pair of long overfilled dumpsters, with trash-bags folded over the edge. The bags had burst, and old refuse is beginning to pile up around the bottom of the dumpsters, attracting a cloud of flies. There are no signs, or indicating marks other than poor-quality graffiti covering older, poorer-quality graffiti. Makoto thinks he _might_ be able to spot a flight of stairs leading into the back of one of the buildings, and maybe the top of a door.

_The kind of place you can die in and not be found for days._

A busted wiring cabinet is pressed against a wall. The cabinet doors have fallen off and are missing, and the cabinet itself is filled with old beer bottles and food packets. Leaning against it is a figure, whose eyes are turned up towards the sky, apparently watching the clouds past the tops of the buildings. A small spire of smoke trails up from a cigarette clamped between his thin lips. Even from a distance, Makoto can see that his cheeks are hollowed, and his jaw dusted with a goatee and moustache.

 _Okay… could this be my would-be attacker?_ Makoto looks the guy up and down. His long, grey hair reaches his shoulders, and Makoto thinks he can see some sort of circlet around his head. The man wears no shirt, displaying his bare, emaciated body. His skin clings to him, showing the shape of bone and thin muscle. His ribs stick out, but his stomach has some definition to it. _An athlete? Looks like he hasn’t eaten in days._ The man’s arms are adorned with darkly coloured tattoos, though Makoto can’t make out the design from this distance. Outside of those, several healed scars cross the man’s body. A few are long and thin, others barely dots.

The figure lifts a hand to his face and removes the cigarette from his mouth, blowing an ashy plume into the sky. “Are you lost?” He speaks as his head falls, eyes meeting Makoto’s.

As the connection is made, Makoto feels his body freeze. _What?_ He tries to take a step forward, but nothing happens. He tries to take one back. Nothing happens. He just feels a shiver run across him, and he’s unable to look away from the figure’s bright, acid-yellow eyes. _He’s gotta be wearing contacts or something… Like I can talk._ And yet, there is something unsettlingly natural about the eyes. They gleam with vigour and a wild energy, though the man’s expression is neutral, bored even.

There is little which scares Makoto. But this man radiates a danger he has never come across in life. It rolls off him like a thick cloud, wrapping around Makoto and forcing its way into his throat to steal the air from his lungs. Makoto has dealt with would-be-delinquents and minor gang toughs, losers with nothing left to lose. This man is none of these things. A part of Makoto wants to run, screaming. He’s unsure if it wants to run away from the man, or towards him.

“All the way out here… are you perhaps more Lost than you are lost?” The man chuckles as though he had made a joke, a dry rumble reminiscent of thunder in a desert. A cruel smile graces his face as he flicks the half-spent cigarette to the floor and crushes it under the heel of a brown boot, eyes never leaving Makoto. His eye sockets are sunken into his face, but those eyes remain beacons of danger.

A part of Makoto delights in the terror he feels, but silence would likely do little here. _How do I play this?_ In his experience, a punk will rarely crumble to another punk, unless given reason to. And Makoto has now passed the point of being able to be seen as a threat. _Maybe just be the scared schoolkid?_ “O-Oh, uh, sorry mister, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Makoto’s body lifts the scrap of paper in his hands and uses it to gesture, “My friend wrote some instructions, but I got lost anyway.”

The figure lifts themselves off the cabinet in a smooth motion and tilts his head, eyes finally leaving Makoto’s face to look at the paper, “Is that so? Then this is mere… coincidence?” He sighs, shaking his head, “How very unfortunate.” The man crosses the space swiftly and reaches out to snag the paper from Makoto’s hands.

 _What should I do? Should I attack him? Maybe it’ll prompt him to attack back?_ But the aura of danger exuding from the man keeps Makoto frozen, even more so at close proximity.

“Well, it is little wonder you were lost. This handwriting is… terrible.”

_Right!?_

The man turns back to Makoto and places the paper back into his outstretched hand, “Where were you trying to go, lost boy?”

“Uh… the mall?” _The grave._

“Ah.” The man nods and turns away, pointing at the alleyway Makoto had first entered the area from, “Then your path is simple enough. Return the way you came, take a left, then two rights. The second left, and you should be somewhere nearby.” The man folds his arms and looks back to Makoto expectantly.

“Thank… you?” _Kill me._

“A pleasure. Farewell, now.” Makoto nods and finally forces his body to move. He stuffs the paper into his pocket and goes to walk towards the alleyway. He is stopped as he passes the man, who seizes Makoto’s shoulder. _Do it._ “A moment. Your uniform… You are a student at Gekkoukan, yes?”

The man’s grip is like a vice. It would take a crowbar to pry his fingers away, even though it looked like he was barely putting any force into the hold. Maybe it was more the lance of fear spearing Makoto from the man’s palm which held him in place. Or was that excitement? _Say something, damnit!_ “Oh uh… yeah. I just transferred.” _Maybe if he thinks I don’t know anyone, he’ll be more likely to finish me off._

A strange look passes over the man’s face, “Hm. Did you skip class?”

 _Huh?_ “N-No, school’s out for the day.”

Still not letting go, the man looks back up to the sky and nods, “Is that so? Ah, how inexorably time moves on.” He looks back down, and gives Makoto an empty smile, “And what is your name?”

This close, Makoto can smell the smoke coming off his breath. Something in him recoils and snaps, “Why should I tell you?” He looks to the hand on his shoulder, glaring at it, willing it to move.

Apparently noticing, the man chuckles again and lets go. _Not quite what I wanted._ “A fair point. Excuse my idle curiosity.” _Not quite the reaction I wanted either._

Feeling the opportunity pass, Makoto tries to grasp at the straws as they escape his grip. _Maybe if I push him for details?_ “Well, what’s _your_ name?”

In response, the man gives Makoto a sharp look. His posture changes, tensing. Makoto can almost feel that pincer grip around his neck, can almost hear his bones creak under the pressure. Perhaps his body would be left here in the alley to be found a few days later, half chewed by rodents. Or maybe he would be tossed into the dumpster. Or maybe he would be dumped into the ocean, only for his bloated corpse to wash up a month or two later.

Defying his expectations once more, the man instead laughs for a moment. The sound is like needles across the skin, “My my, how tenacious you are!” The man cups his chin and gives Makoto that cruel smile, “In honour of that… you may call me Takaya.” And with that, he turns away, heading for the stairs that Makoto had spotted. He raises a hand behind him as he goes, “Do be careful, lost student. Port Island has a sickness, and the people you meet in alleyways are sure to be far less pleasant than myself.”

Makoto watches him go, watches him open the door with a small key and disappear within. The air of fear leaves with him, and Makoto feels his body’s faculties return to him. He lifts his hands and stares at them, flexing his fingers. Back to normal it seems. He looks to the door that ‘Takaya’ passed into and scowls, then slams the side of his fist into the wall of the alleyway, “Damn.” _I was so close! And I couldn’t move!_ He grits his teeth. _Again! I just…_ He opens his hand and digs his nails into the wall, feeling them grind against the brick.

The sting focuses him, and he glares at that door. A part of him wants to go and knock on it and demand that Takaya attack him. But knowledge is power. Plus, it was beginning to get late. He’d have to head back to the dorm before long, if he didn’t want to make the others wonder where he had ended up. Heading back into the alley, Makoto takes the first left and follows the supplied instructions. But while his body moves, his mind ticks over.

_Takaya, huh?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooo, early character introductions, oooooooo.  
> It's a pretty cut and dry chapter, but hopefully you enjoyed seeing some of the characters interact.  
> I've actually got a good chunk of the next chapter prepared (where we'll actually see the Velvet Room at last), so it shouldn't be too long for that!
> 
> That said, let me talk a little bit about my posting schedule, since I'm sure you've noticed it's a little... sporadic? Heh.  
> Due to my working schedule (8 hours, plus a 4 hour total commute), I can't really work on Bad Omen on work nights, mainly because I'm pretty much a corpse by then. I do use free time at work to actually note-take for the next chapter, so I'm not being completely unproductive.  
> As such, I can only actually write Bad Omen on days off, or (rare) days where I've got a gap between two shifts. Because of the rolling shift pattern of my workplace, some chapters might come a lot sooner than others, some may end up being a bit of a wait.
> 
> I appreciate all you lovely readers for putting up with me so far! If you've got any questions, as ever, feel free to drop a comment/review! I look forward to hearing from each and every one of you!
> 
> Love,  
> Avalon <3


	5. Descent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, maybe I lied about seeing Ikutsuki and such last chapter.  
> But hey, we're there now! And I've been looking forward to this one!  
> Hopefully you enjoy!

Makoto replays the day in his head. The encounter with the odd man had been taxing enough, but the shopping trip had turned out to be draining in its own way. He looks down to the two plastic bags rustling in his hand. One has the words ‘Aohige Pharmacy’ written on it in bold blue font. The pharmacy itself had been fairly small, but well stocked. Unfortunately, the smaller size meant that the burly owner could stare at him the entire time Makoto was inside. _Seriously, that guy must have been a wrestler or something._ His expression of suspicion was fixed to his face, even as Makoto collected only some box dye and a bottle of lens solution. Always good to have a backup. His hair hadn’t got bad _yet_ but it’s good to be prepared.

The owner had growled out the price, meticulously counted Makoto’s yen, then counted again, and finally bagged up his items and nodded towards the door when he was satisfied. _Guess he doesn’t need any security to stop people lifting his drugs. He could probably deal with anyone himself._

Paulownia Mall itself was surprisingly nice. Open space, lots of light streaming from the domed glass roof. A few fountains sprayed out water in a consistent soothing rhythm. Not the best array of stores, but enough to keep people happy and supplied. It even had an arcade, a club, and a pretty upmarket looking coffee shop. _Also, karaoke but I will not be seen dead there._ Though it could be fun. But at the very least, those three other locations seemed far more appealing.

The second bag is unmarked, a simple green plastic. A long coil of thick, brown rope is coiled inside, like a viper waiting to strike. Makoto had picked it up from a shady hardware store around the corner of Port Island station. The place’s major advertising was likely the fact it looked as though it had been built from the ground up. The owner had given Makoto a very long, slightly sad look when Makoto asked for a long length of rope which could carry his weight. _Such a good expression._ It ended up backfiring though, as she had then given Makoto an attempt at an inspiring talk about the value of life and inquiring as to his health.

To get the needed rope, Makoto convinced her that it was in fact for climbing, which technically wasn’t even a lie. To her credit, the owner squinted and pointed out that there were probably specialist ropes for that sort of thing. In turn, Makoto said that he liked the danger of traditional tools. That seemed to resonate somewhat with the owner, but the distrust in her expression hadn’t faded, and she watched him as he left the store.

 _I wonder how many times she’s had that conversation._ Makoto frowns, _I wonder what prompted her to say that in the first place… did something happen._ He shakes his head ruefully. _Nothing worse than a shopkeeper with a conscience. Like that’s any way to run a business._

Still, maybe the rope would serve a dual purpose. It’s good to have options.

Eventually Makoto returns to the dorm, and is greeted within by Yukari, who’s sitting on one of the couches with an anxious look on her face. _Been expecting me, pinky?_ “Hey, Miss Takeba.”

“Hey, Yuki. Um…” She turns her head slightly to look at one of the single-seaters closest to the door, at the head of the low table.

Sitting at it is a man who almost blends in with the leather of the chair itself. He wears a dull tan suit over a black turtleneck and has dark brown hair that falls past the base of his neck. He turns to Makoto, revealing a pair of spectacles perched onto his nose, kindly eyes and a placid smile. _Like someone trying to look bookish or sophisticated. Ugh, a tryhard._ The gentleman raises a hand, then stands up, “Ah, good evening!”

Makoto bows his head politely, trying to stop a frown of distaste form on his face, “Good evening, sir.” When he straightens, he glances to Yukari for an explanation.

Before she can open her mouth, the gentleman continues, “You must be the new transfer I’ve been hearing so much about.” He reaches out a hand to Makoto.

There is an awkward pause before Makoto takes it and gives it a cursory shake. Their eyes meet and for the barest moment, Makoto feels fangs at his neck. It’s almost like he’s shaking hands with Takaya, except now that dangerous atmosphere is smothered by a blanket and refined into a point. In fact, it’s subtle enough that if Makoto’s paranoia wasn’t ramped up by his meeting with Takaya, he might not have even noticed.

 _What the-_ And then it’s gone. Something must have registered on Makoto’s face, since the gentleman gives a placating laugh, “Apologies for surprising you like this. I’m sure you have better things to do than entertain me.” He lets go of Makoto’s hand and gestures to the couch Yukari sits on, “Please, take a seat.”

That one moment had been enough to make Makoto’s mask slips, and he hastily makes to put the Ordinary Face back on. _Come on. Smile, be nice, and then we can go to bed. Who cares who this guy is?_ But even Makoto can admit to a little intrigue. He takes a seat next to Yukari, who glances at him and shrugs.

The gentleman returns to his own seat and crosses his legs. He steeples his fingers and turns that all-too-gentle smile to Makoto, “My name is Shuji Ikutsuki. I’m the Chairman of the board at your new school.”

 _Oh, so he’s actually important? Could be useful then…_ “I see. Thank you very much for making the arrangements for my transfer, Mr Ikutsuki.”

“Ah! And here I was going to say that my name is rather hard to say.” Ikutsuki gives an airy chuckle, “Your articulation is to be admired. Even I get a little tongue tied sometimes. And really, it’s no bother. Gekkoukan is all too happy to assist young people such as yourself.”

 _What’s_ that _supposed to mean?_ But rather than ask, Makoto simply nods. _Wait…_ Young people like him? _Does he mean just ‘young people…’ or does he know something?_ He looks back over to the gentleman, whose face is a picture of refined contentment. Nothing to suggest any ill-will or knowledge. _Hmm…_ Of course, Makoto knows well that there’s likely a file about him somewhere. Probably just his academic history. And that would only show a long history of intentionally average grades, with the occasional bump if prowess and renown were to be useful, and he actually did some studying.

The gentleman gestures at the room around them, “I must apologise for the confusion regarding your accommodations. As you well know, it was a rather… last minute transfer.” He gives Yukari a smile, then looks back to Makoto, “I do hope your dorm-mates have been helping you.”

Yukari pipes up, huffing, “I helped him to school the other day, and me and Kirijo-senpai uh…” She pauses, and her eyes dart to Makoto for the briefest moment. _Yes, pinky, how are you going to explain that?_ “… welcomed him.” _Booooring._

“That is most wonderful to hear.” Ikutsuki gives Makoto a wink, “You are fortunate to have some most reliable people living here. You can count on them.” He shifts in place and brushes some non-existent dust from a trouser leg, “That said, I’m afraid it may take a little longer to get you situated in the boys’ dorm. We are rather short on space!”

 _And yet there are plenty of empty rooms here._ “I am sure it’s simply a sign of the quality of your school, sir.”

“You are kind to say so. Now, I’m sure it has been a long day for you, but if you have any questions…?”

 _Oh, plenty. What’s going on between Yukari and Mitsuru? Why are you just a little bit creepy? Do you know anyone named Takaya?_ He looks to Yukari, who is staring at him in the kind of way someone does when they’re trying to tell you something. His mind goes back to the previous day and can hear Yukari telling him not to say anything about the night of his arrival. _Clearly she knows about my hidden hour. Mitsuru too. I wonder…_ “Oh uh, actually there is something.”

“Please, do go on. I am at your disposal.”

“The night I arrived…” Makoto hides a grin, seeing Yukari’s eyebrows shoot up. In fact, he thinks he sees her hand twitch, likely her holding back from grabbing him. _Shame she doesn’t have that gun. She’d probably shoot me right here._ “Well, I saw something weird, sir.”

“Oh? Something weird? Such as what?” Ikutsuki glances at Yukari, and then his eyes move back to Makoto. When they meet, there’s again that feeling of sharp fangs touching to Makoto’s neck. He can almost feel the trickle of venom or sweat rolling down his skin. Ikutsuki simply smiles at Makoto, waiting for his answer. But there’s something in the smile, something amused and mocking. It gloats at Makoto, jeering at him for thinking he knows anything. _He already knows the answer._ Makoto squints for a moment, just enough for the older man to see. In response, Ikutsuki’s smile only grows. Where Takaya reminds Makoto of a starving coyote, wild and ferocious, this man seems to be an entirely different breed. Subtle. So much so that Makoto questions if he’s even seeing anything in the first place. _And there’s no point in asking._

“Actually, sir… I think I might have just been tired. It was a long trip.”

While he can sense Yukari relax a little next to him, Ikutsuki only nods, his smile returning to the placid one he wore upon Makoto’s arrival. “That is likely the case. Starting a new school year can be rather stressful. If you like, I can ask the school nurse to give you a check-up?”

Yukari makes a noise which sounds like a mix between a snort and a scoff. Both Ikutsuki and Makoto turn to her, the former with a hint of amusement, and the latter with a wide grin. She covers her mouth as a pink tone tinges her cheeks, “I-I’m sorry. Mr Edogawa is just…” She trails off.

“Eccentric?” Ikusuki offers. He chuckles as Yukari gives a slow nod, “Well, you would be right in saying so.” He looks to Makoto, “But rest assured, he is fully qualified and highly skilled. You would be in good hands.”

“I don’t know if that will be necessary, sir, but I will keep it in mind.” _Which one was Edogawa…?_ His mind draws up the image of the lab-coat clad man in the Faculty Office, blabbing away about something vaguely occult. _Ah. That explains it._

“Well in that case, I wish you a wonderful school year. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” Ikutsuki rises from the chair and makes his way towards the stairs. He stops as he passes Makoto, and again Makoto can see that smile hidden in his eyes, “You must be rather tired after the last few days. It would be best to get an early night. After all, as they say, the early bird catches the bookworm!”

The smile on his lips becomes expectant. _Oh… Oh was that a joke?_ Makoto tries to cover his wince with awkward, forced laughter. He hears Yukari emit a low groan next to him. Ikutsuki gives a satisfied nod and grins, “Please, excuse my pun.” _Oh god it was!_ He adjusts his glasses and heads off to climb the stairs.

Yukari shakes her head and leans over to whisper to Makoto, “You’ll get used to his bad jokes.”

“Are they all that bad?”

Yukari giggles, “Oh yeah. Or worse. You got lucky.”

Makoto makes a face, prompting a smile from his dorm-mate. _It’s nice when she’s not being all… suspicious. Easier._ The two of them sit quietly, until they hear Ikutsuki’s footsteps disappear somewhere upstairs. Once he can no longer be heard, Yukari turns to Makoto, her face dropping from a smile to an annoyed frown. _Ah. Good things don’t last forever._ “Why’d you say that?”

 _Figured that’d get her attention._ “Say what, Miss Takeba?”

Yukari rolls her eyes and nods her head to the chair Ikutsuki was sitting in, “About the other night! I asked you to…” She sighs and shakes her head, not saying anything further.

“Oh, of course. I know, but he seemed pretty smart. I thought-.”

“Is this because we haven’t explained everything?” A look of discomfort crosses Yukari’s face. _Did she just interrupt me?_

 _Though, an explanation_ would _be nice._ “No, no, I just… I thought he might have known something. It was kind of…” _Alright, let’s lay the trap._ He swallows, looking away from her. His eyes settle on the wall opposite, his shoulders drop. He lets his eyes widen slightly. Haunted. “It was kind of scary.”

Yukari nods and looks to her hands, which hold each other in her lap, “Well, look, it’s just better you don’t say anything. Even to people who know about it.”

Makoto fights to keep the grin off his face. _So that guy_ does _know about it as well._ His victorious amusement lasts only a short time before it makes way to a frustration. _Man, just how many people know about my hidden hour?_ “But why? Shouldn’t people know?”

The brunette’s expression turns conflicted, “It’s just… how it has to be.” The statement ends lamely, and even she seems dissatisfied with it.

“But… will you explain it to me, Miss Takeba…?” His words are soft, imploring. Hopeful. _If anyone will crack, it’s her._

And for a moment, it seems she will. She takes a breath and looks to Makoto. A sliver of determination works into her eyes, a hint of the fire she had shown back at school. But then she wilts, “I will, Yuki. I just can’t right now, okay? Can you wait a little bit longer?”

 _Ugh. It’ll have to do. At least I know I’ll get an answer._ “Sure, I understand. I don’t want to make things hard for you.”

Yukari visibly relaxes at that, her relief obvious, “Phew. Good. If I say anything, Kirijo-senpai will eat me for lunch.” A half smile flickers onto her lips, but it doesn’t make it any further than that.

The change in conversation topic isn’t quite the intended goal, but it works. _Could be useful._ “Speaking of Miss Kirijo…”

“Mm?” Yukari looks over to him, pressing her back to the couch cushions as though bracing herself.

“Is there something going on with you guys?”

Her brows knit a little, and she gives Makoto a long look, “How do you mean?”

 _That you want to take her out to a restaurant? What do you_ think _, pinky?_ “Well, you uh… don’t seem to be on the best of terms?” He puts up his hands, pressing them to an invisible wall in front of him, “But, y’know, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” _Which usually means that_ I _want her to tell me._

Another long look, and Yukari shakes her head, “It’s… nothing. We’ve just never really got on as like, friends.” She shrugs and looks down to her lap, “I mean, Mitsuru’s fine, she’s nice, I guess. We’re different kinds of people.” Makoto notes that she doesn’t sound convinced by her own words.

“Did something happen?”

The frown on Yukari’s face deepens and she looks over to him, confusion in her eyes, “Why are you asking, Yuki?”

 _Uh oh. Overstepped._ He quickly molds a bashful expression on his face. Small smile, a glance away, tinge a little blush onto his cheeks. He fiddles with the edge of his fringe, framing his eyes as he looks at her, “Well uh… I just want to know more about you, Miss Takeba…”

The effect is less than desired. Yukari does look surprised for a brief moment as she leans back, “Oh, uh…” Confusion reasserts itself swiftly though, “Riiiight. Um. Honestly, everything is fine. Don’t worry about it.” She gives him what she likely thinks is a reassuring smile, and then stands. “Anyway, I’m gonna head to my room. Might as well get some studying done, right?”

 _Damn. Junpei did say she’s popular, guess she’s dealt with blushing heartthrobs before._ Thankfully, Yukari doesn’t seem too disturbed by the change in his attitude, but it’s clear that he won’t be able to push this conversation any further. _I’ll have to take a different angle in the future…_ “Makes sense to me. I might do the same.” He gives her a wide, pleasant smile, “Best of luck, classmate!”

Yukari nods and wishes him goodnight, before heading upstairs. He waits for her to go, and then lets the mask drop away, leaving a frustrated scowl on his face. _It’s gotta be important if none of them are dropping details._ For him, his hidden hour had always been his own little paradise. An escape from the prying and judgemental eyes of others, a time when the world itself is only his.

And now, he’s met at least two people who are able to infringe on that. Maybe three, if Ikutsuki can as well. Makoto grips the material of his trousers and twists his lips. Sure, he had heard screams and voices during his hidden hour, but he had never run into other people. Sure, it was a mystery in the first place. But it was also a blessing. _If these people know more about it, I have to find out._ Maybe it _means_ something?

But does that even matter?

Drumming his fingers on his leg, he fidgets, then groans. _Whatever. Pinky will tell me at some point, and maybe I can pressure Mitsuru too._ He stands and stalks back to his room, ignoring the buzzing in his head.

* * *

Yukari stares up at the overlarge monitor in front of her. It dominates the wall, and its image is a mess of graphs, diagrams, and a live feed of the inside of Makoto’s room. _I can’t believe we’re doing this._ She watches the blue-haired boy as he sits at his desk, quietly fiddling with a long length of rope. A magazine lies on the console in front of her, turned to a page about new season fashion. There are a few cute pieces, but she’s too distracted to properly look at them.

To her left, her senior shifts a little in her chair. Mitsuru is watching the feed, occasionally scribbling something in a notebook. Her expression is distracted, maybe even a little bored. _If we’re gonna spy on him, can you at least look like it’s important?_ “What do you think he’s doing?”

Mitsuru glances over and shakes her head, “I can’t be sure. It seems he is tying knots in that rope. Perhaps it’s some sort of…” She pauses, before plucking the word from the air, “Ritual?”

“Huh?”

“As in, something to relax him. Everyone has something they use to distract themselves. Though I would rather he was studying.” The crimsonette glances at the screen and writes a short sentence in her notebook.

Yukari looks to the magazine. How many times had she flicked through glossy pages, or fiddled with her phone, or watched a dumb tv show just to not think about stuff? “Weird sort of ritual.” Inwardly, she apologises for saying something like that. Makoto seemed nice, if a little weird.

Her mind goes back to their conversation earlier in the day, and his expression towards the end. _It was kinda… cute? But sudden._ She frowns, _Like, it came out of nowhere._ Weird was the best way to put it. He reminds her of a scrappy puppy, a little odd and eccentric, but hard not to enjoy the company of.

“Mm.” Mitsuru doesn’t look away from her notebook this time, but half-nods.

“Working hard?” Yukari turns to see Ikutsuki stepping into the room, brushing down the front of his jacket. He gives her a nod and a smile, before glancing at the screen, “How is he doing?”

Mitsuru looks up to the screen and frowns, “He seems well enough. Just… tying knots in a rope.”

“Hm. Well, I suppose that isn’t too concerning.” Ikutsuki reaches out and pulls one of the red leather pouffes from the table nearby, and sits between the two girls, “Nothing else worth mentioning?”

Before Mitsuru can reply, Yukari looks to the chairman, “Can you two tell me why we’re here, now?” She doesn’t mean to _sound_ that annoyed, despite it being true to her feelings. Neither Mitsuru nor Ikutsuki react to her outburst, other than to look at her.

“Mitsuru, have you got a copy of his file?”

“I do.” She opens a drawer and withdraws a slim manila folder, which she sets on the console near Yukari, “Here, Takeba. I’m sorry you’ve had to wait this long.” She has an apologetic smile on her face, but Yukari doesn’t buy it. She snatches up the folder and looks inside.

 _What could be so important?_ There are only a few sheets of paper inside. In the top left corner on the first page is a picture of Makoto, likely taken from his application to the school. In it, he gives the camera a bright smile, and has brushed his hair out of his eyes. _Let’s see here…_ The headline declares the document to be a background report on the boy. _I wonder if they’ve got one about me…_ She looks at Mitsuru, whose eyes are back on the screen. _Probably._

 _Huh…_ The actual content of the document is surprisingly sparse. A basic history of Makoto’s living situations. _He’s been all over Japan, huh? Must have been exhausting._ A few times every year he has been moved to some other part of the same city, or further out into other parts of the country. A map of Japan is attached, with little pinpoints marked across it.

“It seems he didn’t move around so much when younger, but the pace has increased over recent years.” Ikutsuki nods to himself.

Indeed, there were only a couple of moves in the mid-to-late 90’s. The document then goes on to detail his parents, who were described as ‘ordinary office workers with no particular eccentricities or criminal history.’ Yukari looks at the chairman and frowns, “Where’d you guys get this stuff?”

“Hm? Oh, interviews with neighbours and the like. Interestingly, it seems that very few of them recall Makoto himself. They all seemed rather confused when our… investigators brought up the issue.” Ikutsuki hums thoughtfully, “Please, continue reading, Yukari.”

More information on his parents… _None of this seems particularly weird._ In 1999- _Oh_. That was the year where… _Don’t think about it._ She reads on. ‘ _In 1999, an incident on the Moonlight Bridge-’ wait, near Port Island? He didn’t say he’d been here before. ‘An incident… claimed the lives of his parents.’_ Yukari gasps, drawing a raised eyebrow and a glance from Mitsuru. _Both of them? Wait, wait. ‘The subject observed their passing and narrowly avoided his own death after emergency medical attention.’_ “Oh god.”

“Quite. After meeting him, I was surprised at how well he seems to carry such a tragedy.” Mitsuru pauses in her notetaking to look at the boy on the screen, who now stands in front of the mirror, staring at themselves.

“Ah Mitsuru, one should never judge based on appearances. People can be surprisingly good at hiding their pain.” Ikutsuki muses, nodding once more.

 _He’s lost both his parents…? No wonder he’s been moving around so much._ The rest of the report seems mundane by comparison. _How does he cope?_ His grades had always been fairly average, with occasional rises and falls. Interviews with fellow students and teachers were conflicted. Some painted him as a cheerful, friendly, and helpful person. Others said that he was sullen and unapproachable. Others shared rumours that he had fallen in with the wrong crowd or had committed various acts of violence.

“Anything jumping out at you, Yukari?”

Yukari shakes her head, frowning. _I mean, sure, it’s sad, but other than him knowing about the Dark Hour…_ Turning the page, Yukari finds a typed-out document, which has official heading from some hospital she hasn’t heard of.

* * *

T: Good afternoon, I am Dr. Takeshiro. I work here at the hospital. Could you tell me your name, sweetie?

[The patient does not respond.]

T: Excuse me? Could you please tell me your name?

P: …Makoto.

T: And… your last name?

P: Yuki.

T: Thank you very much, Makoto. Now, how are you feeling today?

P: Fine.

T: That’s good. That’s good.

[The sound of pen on paper.]

T: Makoto, your nurse tells me you’ve been having some trouble sleeping. Could you tell me about that?

T: Makoto?

P: It’s scary.

T: Go on.

P: Everything is green. There’s blood everywhere. I can hear mama and papa.

[The sound of pen on paper.]

T: Okay. And when does this happen, Makoto?

P: At night. Late at night. After the lights turn off. I… I’m scared, mister.

T: There now, it’s okay. Take your time.

[The patient sobs.]

P: Where did they go?

T: Hm?

P: Mama and papa. Where did they go?

T: They… went away, Makoto. I’m sorry. They’re in a better place.

P: Where?

T: I’m afraid it’s somewhere we can’t go, Makoto. You’ll see them someday.

P: When?

T: [Clears throat.] Makoto, could you tell me more about what happens at night?

P: Blood comes down the walls. The moon is green. If I look out of the window, everything is green, and there are big wooden things.

T: I see… Can you describe the wooden things for me?

[Patient is silent. Rustling of paper.]

T: Perhaps you can draw them for me? Would that be okay?

P: ‘Kay…

[Scribbling. The rustling of paper.]

T: Hm… The patient has drawn a picture of what appears to be a coffin, or a kite.

P: What are they?

T: I’m not sure, Makoto. But it’s alright, whatever they are you are safe and sound here in the hospital. We’re here to help you, okay?

P: But no-one comes to help me.

T: I’m sorry?

P: I shout, but no-one comes. I shout really loud. I shout until the green goes away.

T: And it does go away?

P: Yeah.

T: Well that’s good. Listen, Makoto, we’re going to be keeping a close eye on you okay? You’re perfectly safe.

[Patient is silent.]

P: Are mama and papa dead?

T: I… am afraid so, Makoto.

P: Would I see them if I died?

[Patient is unresponsive from this point. Patient is returned to their room and observed. Patient grows increasingly distressed in the hour approaching midnight. At 00:01, observing staff find the patient in a state of extreme distress in the corner of their room. Attending staff are recommended to add a dosage of-]

* * *

The report descends into a list of medicines given to Makoto as a child. Yukari looks over the transcript again, and then looks to the other two in the room. The monitor had been switched off sometime during her reading, apparently Makoto was changing, and they didn’t want to intrude that much. _At least they’re doing the bare minimum for his privacy._

“Ah, that is something we managed to find deep in a hospital record. What do you think?”

Yukari drums looks down at the transcript. She’s grateful it’s only words, since an audio recording would leave her feeling even more melancholy than she already is. Reading these words, she can’t imagine the person she’s met being the same person in the interview. _He’s still so upbeat._ Her mind takes her back to a young girl, sobbing over a scrappy letter. The memory could be old, it could be recent. It was likely both. _I guess I’ve been there…_ “This thing keeping him awake… it’s the Dark Hour, right?”

Ikutsuki gives her a smile, “It would seem so. So, at the very least, he has been aware of the Dark Hour for the last ten years.” He gestures a hand at Mitsuru, who flicks the monitor back on. On it, Makoto lies in a dark room, sleeping soundly in his bed. _Peaceful._

“This doesn’t explain why we’re watching him sleep.”

“Takeba.” Yukari looks to Mitsuru, who turns to regard her coolly, “In your time talking to Yuki, how has he seemed?” Yukari shrugs. _Like a normal guy, I guess._ She says as much, and Mitsuru nods slowly, apparently satisfied with the answer.

“And there is the oddity.” Ikutsuki lifts his arm to look at the watch on his writs. _Tick, tick, tick._

The Dark Hour blooms in a moment, descending upon them like a damp blanket. Heavy and oppressive, and moving leaves the dew-drop tingle of mist on the skin. Yukari shivers, taking solace in the small flame within her that fights off the leeching atmosphere. She presses a hand to her chest and takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. If she focuses, she can feel that gentle warmth within her. She opens her eyes and glances to Mitsuru, who simply rolls her shoulder and takes a breath. Ikutsuki barely moves, “There, you see.” He speaks up, and points at the monitor screen. The image itself flickers, but then regains itself, powered by whatever special tech that Mitsuru’s company had control of. _Her_ dad’s _company, that is._

A corner of the screen leaks a thin trail of crimson, but the image on it remains the same. Makoto Yuki, fast asleep in his bed, “He has not transmogrified into a coffin. While he may be asleep, he is certainly experiencing the Dark Hour.” Ikutsuki stands, “Plus, this confirms what we had already expected.”

 _Can you talk straight, for once?_ “Which is?”

Mitsuru taps her chin with a slender finger and sets her pen down, “That he has the potential.”

“Like, he has a persona?”

“Well, he _could_ have. The potential to have.” Mitsuru rubs at the bridge of her nose and adjusts her fringe to see the screen better, “If he didn’t, the Shadows would have come for him long ago.” Though none of them had yet seen the results of lingering in the Dark Hour without the potential, Ikutsuki had been sure to inform them that seeing such a thing is better avoided.

“And we’re watching him _because_ …?”

Ikutsuki smiles down at her, “Simply for confirmation and his safety. Nothing more than that.”

 _I mean, if it’s for his safety…_ She sighs, _Still, watching him sleep just feels… creepy._ She frowns and glances at the other two, who have begun to talk between themselves. _If he gets a persona, he’d be able to join the team…_ Her eyes settle on the boy sleeping so peacefully. Undisturbed by the clammy, choking air of the Dark Hour. Undisturbed by his past. _If he does, we have to be honest with him._

Yukari looks back down at the folder and flicks through the papers without focusing on them. Her brain conjures the image of a young, scared Makoto, all alone in a hospital room, not knowing who to turn to and who to trust. A knot ties in her stomach as the image changes to herself, sitting in her bed at home, crying for her father and listening to her mother chat up some guy downstairs

 _If he does,_ I _have to be honest with him._

* * *

Makoto closes his eyes, a small smile on his lips. Knotting the rope had taken up a good portion of his free time, but it seemed strong enough and long enough for its purpose. He’d test it tomorrow, and actually be able to spend some time in his hidden hour. For now, he’s left it coiled up like a large snake on his desk, next to his notebook.

 _Best get some sleep for the big day. Don’t want to be too tired out there._ He had once spent some time in his hidden hour on very little energy, and the experience was less than pleasant. He had left it feeling completely exhausted and had ended up sleeping through the majority of the next day. _I want to enjoy it to its fullest. There’ll be only so many times I can get away with this._ He thinks to himself, planning. _I’ll wait until it’s almost midnight, then throw it out and go on my merry way. I’ll have to avoid any windows, but that shouldn’t be too hard. Slip out of the alleyway and disappear into the night, return before anyone notices I’m gone._

_Just a little walk. Who would it hurt?_

He chuckles. _Well, hopefully a lot of people. Hopefully me._

_Yeah…_

Makoto feels the thoughts start to leave him as he pictures roaming the gloomy streets of the city once more, getting into all its nooks and crannies during that most mysterious of times. To hell with the others, they can’t enjoy it as he does. With that in mind, the world starts to fall away. He feels the soft bed beneath him become the softness of his body until all the world is a great cloud, wrapping around him.

And he’s falling.

And falling.

And falling.

The darkness around him grows a shade lighter, and another shade, the deepest blue of night. Like closing your eyes after you’ve sat in the darkness for an hour. Makoto feels something press against his back. Something firm and decidedly un-bed-like. _Ugh._ He rolls over, but the firmness just moves underneath him. Something cold touches his cheek. _C’mon, let me sleep already._ He rolls back onto his back, missing the all-too-absent softness.

Something in the distance catches his attention. A gentle, soothing melody. Piano and strings, and a soft choral voice vocalising. Heard as though through a set of doors. Distant, but present all the same. _Did I leave my MP3 on…?_ He doesn’t recognise the track.

Makoto opens his eyes to try and find the source.

He then opens them wider. “What.”

Above him he sees an infinite spray of stars, all moving slowly in a galaxial swirl. The brightest pinpricks standing out from what must be millions of others blending in sweeping arcs of stellar beauty. Deep purples and blues and greens and reds all mixing. They ripple and move and swirl like so many inks mixed and stirred. It stretches on forever, filling his vision.

Though only just. Out of the corner of his eye to his left, he catches a gentle glow. He turns his head and sees a cluster of small blue flowers turned towards him. Each flower has five petals and little yellow hearts, and each glow with a soft blue hue. _What is this…?_ He sits up and looks down at the… earth… beneath him. Rich soil, with a bare ellipsoid where he was laying. Around him bloom countless flowers. Some are bushes of ball-like clusters of purple flowers, some pale pink blooms with wide open petals and a deep heart. A plant with deep crimson leaves which sprout tiny bright red flowers. Another group of tall, spiky flowers which appear to be a marriage of bluebells and lavender.

While none of them emit a scent, they all release a soft coloured light from their petals. With Makoto sitting up, they reach to just about his shoulders, and all meld together to become a small but beautiful garden of colour and light. _This… has to be some sort of dream._ He looks up again to look at the stars and shakes his head. _If this is real, I’ve really lost it._

He digs a hand into the soil and lifts some up, crumbling it between his fingers. Soft and yielding and cool. _It_ feels _damn real._ The silence is only broken by that distant melody, leaving him alone in th-

“Ehe…”

Makoto spins at the sound of a giggle, looking behind himself, “Wha-” He stumbles back, landing on his backside in the earth. His jaw hangs agape as he takes in his surroundings.

Where the flowers stop, the ground extends with a soft looking carpet, aside from a carved marble path which stretches in a straight line ahead of him. Incrementally, along the isle, long wooden benches are placed. Tall, tall columns reach up to the roof, which cannot be seen no matter how far Makoto looks. In fact, that vision of the galaxies seems to extend across the space above him, and the columns disappear within. Between the pillars hang long swathes of silk, which frame the walkway ahead. Everything in the space, outside of the wooden and stone fixtures, is a deep royal blue, with slight changes in hue here and there.

The space is not as wide as it is tall but is wide enough to easily hold a few hundred people. The walls themselves are decorated with carved wooden panels, each bearing an elegant curved design. At the end of the marble walkway, steps lead up to a wide dais, which catches Makoto’s attention for several reasons.

_Nose._

He stands and begins to walk along the aisle. On the right side of the dais stands a tall lectern in the shape of a great golden butterfly, frozen in flight. Atop the lectern sits a book, the pages of which occasionally flip as though caught by a wind Makoto can’t feel. Behind the lectern stands a woman, who looks down at Makoto with an amused smile in her bright yellow eyes. The eyes almost seem to glow in the low light of the room. She has alabaster white skin and platinum blonde hair styled into a bouncy bob.

She’s clad in an outfit of long and flowing silks, coloured in that same blue of the room. The fabric hugs her close, framing her body before the skirts float out at her thighs and swim around her ankles. She wears a pair of blue gladiator heels, which criss-cross up her lower calves and end in similarly floaty ribbons. Her shoulders are left bare, with sleeves starting at the top of her upper arm and ending just past her elbow. The fabric continues past that point and would leave her forearm bare were it not for a pair of long, blue silk evening gloves. The gloves expose her hands, with an embroidered design on the back connecting around her middle finger.

Noticing Makoto, she raises one of her hands and wiggles her fingers at him in what could only be assumed as a greeting. He gets the feeling this woman is where the giggle came from. _Uh…_ Unsure, Makoto half waves at her, and looks across the dais.

_Nose._

On the left side of the dais is a large stone bowl, carved with an odd symbol in the front. It looks like the letter ‘V’, which is surrounded by a pair of olive branches that arc from the bottom. The bowl itself would be tall enough to reach just beneath Makoto’s chest. Behind it, stands a figure who looks down at Makoto with a gentle smile on his face.

He wears a tailored, deep blue cassock with gold piping along the edges of the fabric. It flares at the hip, and reaches towards his ankles, with two inverted pleats along the front which expose a lighter blue satin between them. Around his waist is a long, wide sash, which folds over itself to hang just to the left of his waist. The bottom of the sash has the symbol from the bowl embroidered in bright gold thread. Above the waist, the front is breasted with gold buttons trailing up to a high collar which hugs the man’s neck. On his hands are pristine white gloves, and the cuffs of the cassock are folded back to reveal that same blue satin.

The man himself has the same snow-pale skin as the woman, the same bright yellow eyes and the same platinum blond hair. Though his is swept back into a crest of feathery spikes which curve behind his head. Seeing Makoto’s eyes on him, the man smiles, touches a hand to his chest and gives a slow bow.

 _Nose_.

The room ends just behind the dais, with the far wall dominated by a gargantuan stained-glass window. The window is circular, and almost spans the entire width of the room. The pattern is complex on the edges, a weaving and almost messy combination of brocade and fractals. It creates a ring which frames the central design, a black silhouette which dangles prone from a pattern of chains stretching across the window, marring the colourful ring pattern. The figure casts one arm to the sky, as though reaching for something. Their other arm dangles beneath them, resigned to its fate. A silvery light comes through the window, leaving shafts which frame the design of the figure.

_Nose!_

In the middle of the dais is a wide table _nose_ , draped in a _nose_ deep blue tablecloth with golden _nose_ embroidery. On Makoto’s side is a tall-backed chair, _nose_ angled so that it doesn’t obstruct the view of the _nose_ figure on the other side of the table. Sitting on a simple _nose_ chair is-

_OH GOD WHY IS THEIR NOSE SO BIG._

Sitting on a simple chair behind the table is a creature who spoils the strangely ethereal beauty of the room. They are almost cartoonish in the extremes of their appearance. A pair of bugged-out eyes pop out from beneath bristly eyebrows. A disturbingly wide grin stretches their mouth. The top of their head is bald, and a shaggy mess of silver hair falls from the sides, brushed back behind tiny, elf-like ears. And slap bang in the middle of their face is _the biggest goddamn nose_ Makoto has ever seen.

 _How do you even get a nose that big!?_ They wear a dapper black suit, with a thin black tie and a white silk handkerchief poking out from the breast pocket. By all accounts, they look like the devil’s funeral director. The thought causes Makoto to pause as he approaches the stairs leading up to the dais. _Wait, what if that’s it? What if I’m… dead?_

He reaches across himself and pinches his arm, frowning at the sting of pain. As he does so, the central figures grin grows impossibly wider. _Can dead people still feel pain? And wait, if I’m dead, then where’s this?_ He groans. _Did I die in my sleep!? Oh_ god _what a boring way to go! Come on! I didn’t even get to experience it!_ He begins to climb the stairs. The three figures watch him approach.

As he reaches the top stop, all three of them incline their heads and intone, “Welcome… to the Velvet Room.”

_The what?_

The central figure looks up, and stares at Makoto down the length of their nose, “Welcome, my dear, honoured guest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! I've been able to show off the new Velvet Room design!  
> Since, y'know, it's based around the guest, and this Makoto's journey is different enough to demand a different Velvet Room, and redesigns of the attendants to match.  
> That's right, attendants! Theo is here! Hooray!
> 
> The inspirations for the new Velvet Room should be obvious enough. It's mainly meant to be a chapel of some description, though you might catch a little inspiration from a church from a certain videogame which rhymes with Schminal Schmantasy Schmeven.  
> (I'm very tempted to commission someone for some artwork of the new design, particularly for the attendants. I'm quite pleased with them. If you can't tell.)
> 
> Aside from that, hooray! We've got a meeting with the Chairman, a chat with Yukari, and now Yukari knows. But does Makoto know that she knows?  
> The answer?
> 
> MAYBE.
> 
> Anyway, that's all from me folks. Thanks as always for reading, and I'm looking forward to hearing what you guys think!
> 
> Love,  
> Avalon <3


End file.
